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TENNYSON’S FAIRIES 


AND OTtt€R STORIES 


ILLUSTRAIED 


V 


^ COP'^R'GHT %' 

AP- 291889 ' 

‘^'^ashingto^' 


BOSTON 

D LOTHROP COMPANY 


WASHINGTON STREET OPPOSITE vIFIELI) 


T 


Copyright, 1889, 

BY 

D. Lothrop Company. 


CONTENTS. 


Page 

Mr. Tennyson’s Fairies. By Joaqidn Miller . . i 

An Old Rhyme Explained 7 

The Apo'I hecaky’s Valentine. ^ By II. B. B. IV. . 8 

Compensation ,15 

Katy’s Eirthday. By Sarah Or)ie Je^vcit . . . 16 

Summer. A Poem. By F'a 7 inie Spangenberg . . 32 

The Firm of Punkapog & Poss. 

By Kate Gannett Wells 33 

The Hope Works. By Susan Hale .... 47 

How Jacky went to Church on Easter. 

By Elizabeth Bai'uett Hill . . . . . 56 

The Carib Captain’s Story 

By Fi'ed A. Ober . . . . . . 65 

Did Ethel See the Queen.^ 

By Eliot McCormick . . . . . - . 79 

The One-Man Band. By M. E. P. . ^ . . . 93 

Kenton’s League with the Sun. 

By Rezr Irving L. Beman . ■ . . . . 97 

A Nantucket Story. By Mrs. Alfred Maccy . . 106 

Polly’s Nest-Egg. By Mary Densel . . . . 116 

Lost in Pompeii. By //. //. Clark, U. S. N. 

\ 


\ 


129 


/V 


CONTENTS. 


Robin IIood’s Ghost. By Joaquin Miller . . 150 

Self-Competition 160 

A Winter Moonrise. By Mary Densel . . . 161 

A Mercantile Transaction. 

By Byron A. Brooks . . . . . . 18* 

James Henry on the Mastodon. By J. H. . . 193 

Johnny Pig. By Margaret Eytinj^e . . . . 198 

Ghosts I have Seen. By IVtn. M. Baker . . . 202 

A Little Boy’s Nap in a Cannon. 

By Mrs. S. B. C. Sanmels . . . . . 210 

Another Ghost. By If m. M. Baker . . . 225 

Too Fond of Maple Sugar. 

By Bev. Irving L. B email ..... 232 

Good Advice. ' 

Translated by Prof. J. C. Pickard . . . 243 

The Stimpcett’s Sunrise Party. 

By Mrs. A. M. Diaz ...... 244 

Children’s Books in Old Times. 

By Sarah Loring Bailey . . . . . 257 

How Jared Saw the Elephant. 

By Kate Upson Clark . . . . ' . . 276 

Hitty’s First School. By E. C. Wheeler . , 289 

What Grandmamma Did. By Kate Lawrence . 296 

Advice to Young Men. By Noah Porter, LL. D. . 307 

How the Little Stedman’s had a Good Time. 

By Miss II. R. Eliot ...... 308 


MR. TENNYSON’S FAIRIES. 


T CALL them Mr. Tennyson’s fairies, because the 
^ people on the Isle of Wight, where this great poet 
lives, call them his. But of course he does not own 
them. Indeed, I doubt if ever he saw them. But I 
saw them once. Indeed I did, and I will tell you all 
about how it happened. I am sure it will amuse you, 
for I doubt if you can find another six-foot man 
with a full big beard on his face and with all his 
senses about him, who can truly say that he has seen 
a fairy. Of course some children have seen fairies; 
or at least thought so. And no doubt some very 
good and honest women have also. But surely not 
another big-bearded man who has twice sailed around 
this world, can be found who can boldly and truly 
say that he has seen Mr. Tennyson’s fairies. 

You must know this greatest of all living poets 
lives on the green grassy end of his Island, just 


2 


MR. Tennyson’s fairies. 


under the shadow of a smooth round hill that looks 
out over the sea, with a great flag staff on it and 
nothing else. 

So this gives the fairies a great chance to meet 
there and dance on the green grassy knoll looking 
down on the poet’s house. 

Well, about twelve years ago I left the mountains of 
Oregon and went straight to England. The very 
first thing I did I went to where Robert Burns had 
lived and was buried ; then I went to see the grave 
of Byron, and then I went to see if I could get a peep 
at Mr. Tennyson on his green little island. 

I was very timid and quite alone and unknown, 
and so I did not dare to call on him or go nearer his 
house than the gate. 

So I looked over the little gate at the red flowers 
set in little beds on either side the road that ran up 
toward the house, about a hundred steps away. The 
house stood in the midst of green fir and pine-trees, 
so that I could see but little of it. It seemed to be 
a small house. I heard carpenters at work ham- 
mering very hard and fast. Perhaps they were 
building a bigger house or making some addition 


MR. Tennyson’s fairies. 


3 


to this modest little one half hidden among the trees. 

I remember wondering how in the world Mr. 
Tennyson could write his beautiful poems with such 
work going on about his ears. And I remember 
thinking too, that if I were he and had that little 
house I would love it just as it was. And then I 
thought, perhaps his wife or boys wanted a bigger 
house, and so had called in the noisy carpenters. 

I stood there quite a time, and then as I did not 
see any one, I thought I would open the gate and go 
up the path to the house and get one of the carpenters’ 
chips of the poet’s house. 

I got the gate open and started up the path with a 
beating heart, for I was shy and frightened all the 
time, and if I had seen Mr. Tennyson, I surely should 
have run away very fast. 

As I went up the garden and got near the house, 
I saw a man coming from among the trees. He had 
a scythe on his arm, and no doubt was the gardener. 
I stopped when I saw him, and when 1 saw that he 
was coming down the path toward me, I turned and 
ran with all my might down to the gate and out and 
down the lane. 


4 


MR. TENNYSON S FAIRIES. 


Of course the poet would have been very kind to 
me if I had been bold enough to go up to the house 
and call quietly, and say how much I wanted to see 
him. But I was too timid and shy then. 

I once saw it stated 'n the newspapers, that I was 
spending the summer with him at that little house 
But that was a mistake. I have never been inside 
the gate since the time I ran away with all my might 
down the lane. 

Well, I went back to my inn, in the village nearby, 
feeling more proud at having seen the home of Ten- 
nyson than if I had dined with the Queen. I asked 
the people about the inn a thousand things, and they 
had only kind words to say of the quiet and thought- 
ful poet in the little house among the trees under the 
round green hill that looks out upon the sea, an — 

The fairies ? Oh, yes ! 

Well, the stout, red, fat man with a double chin, 
who brought me my chop and tea, as it was growing 
dusk, told me that Mr. Tennyson’s fairies would be 
out to dance on the round grassy hill that night, for 
it was the full of the moon, and it was a very bright 
and beautiful moon too. 


MR. Tennyson’s fairies. 


5 


I listened to all he said about fairies very thought- 
fully. Then when all was still and most of the people 
had gone to bed, I put on my cloak and walked out, 
and up on the green round hill overlooking the great 
sea to the west, and sat down on the highest point. 

The moon rode like a lonesome ship in the vast 
blue heavens above, and the sea beneath was like 
silver. 

I was very tired, and so drew my cloak about me 
and lay down on my breast, with my chin in my 
upturned palms. 

I thought of many things : of my parents, thousands 
and thousands of miles away, of the great poet, in 
the little house amid the trees just under the hill ; 
and of the future. 

Suddenly I heard little feet. Patter! patter! 
patter ! The little feet stopped, then they started 
faster than ever. Then I saw something run past me 
and around me and around and around. Then there 
were two ! Then three ! Then four ! Then a dozen 
or more ! 

At first I let my face fall down and hide in my 
cloak. I am not afraid of bears or any big thing 


6 


MR. Tennyson’s fairies. 


like that. But I tell you when fairies no taller than your 
knee, come out at midnight and make up their minds 
to dance around you as if you were a sort of Jack- 
in-the-green — well, I think the bravest of you would 
drop your face and hide it for a minute or two. 

After a while I did not hear them running, and so 
I lifted my head and peeped out. 

There they stood on their hind legs in the fairy 
ring all around me. They seemed to be bowing to 
each other as if they were about to begin a dance. 

I could see one big fellow as high as my knee, lay 
his hand on his white breast and bow gravely to his 
little lady to the right. 

The little lady would bend and courtesy back very 
beautifully. She seemed to be in a ball dress with 
a very low neck. There was a great big white spot 
on her pretty little breast. She seemed to be wearing 
a queer little bonnet, which flopped and fluttered as 
she courtesyed ; and the great big fellow bowed before 
her with his hand on his heart, again and again. 

And oh, but wasn’t I frightened ! I started to 
scramble up and run. I am no coward surely, for I 
don’t mind wolves or wildcats or even a few dozen 


MR. Tennyson’s fairies. 


7 


bears. But I was never so frightened before as I 
was at these fairies. 

But as I sprang to my feet and started to run, 
what do you think ? Eh ! Why, dozens of big fat 
white rabbits darted off in every direction, quite as 
badly frightened as I was. And these big while- 
breasted rabbits were Mr. Tennyson’s Fairies. 


“ Four and twenty black birds baked in a pie,” be- 
gins an old nursery rhyme. 

The “ four and twenty black birds ” are the four 
and twenty hours of the day ; the “ pie ” is the space 
between earth and sky, its lower and upper crusts. 

“ When the pie was opened ” means when day be- 
gins to break. “ The king in the parlor counting out 
money ” represents the sun. The sun, enthroned in 
the sky, is king of day. The bright, golden sunshine, 
scattered about is meant, by “ counting out money.” 

“ The queen up stairs eating bread and honey ” is the 
moon. 

“ The maid in the garden hanging out clothes ” is 
Aurora, the goddess of dawn. 

“ Up jumped a little bird and nipped off her nose ” 
refers to the first hour; for Aurora, or dawn, dis- 
appears as soon as the sun arises. 


THE APOTHECARY’S VAL- 
ENTINE. 


TT was a lonely house for a child to live in — only 
papa, who had been ill for many months, little 
Ida herself, the ten-year-old mistress of the establish- 
ment, and Mrs. Libby the housekeeper. Across the 
street the postman had been ringing all day. Ida 
watching at the window, with a piece of red flannel 
around her throat, had seen little lads and lassies 
slipping envelopes under the doors ; then small girls, 
and sometimes big girls, came out on the steps, looked 
up and down the street, and smiled as if they were 
very much pleased. 

“ Why do they get so many letters to-day ? ” asked 
Ida timidly. 

Mrs. Libby was cleaning the nursery closet, and 
answered shortly : “ Those are valentines ; come 
away from the window. You’ll get cold.” 


THE apothecary’s VALENTINE. 


9 


“Valentines,” said Ida thoughtfully to herself; 
“ I wonder what that is.” 

She slipped down to the library and dragged the 
V encyclopaedia beside the register. Ida had long 
since adopted the plan of looking up Mrs. Libby’s 
replies in papa’s library. The child’s head bent over 
the page : “Valentines — a declaration of affection 
between two people, sent on St. Valentine’s Day, the 
fourteenth of February.” 

“ A valentine must be something very nice,” thought 
Ida, “ the children over the way were so happy ; I 
wish I could send one, but I only know Mrs. Libby.” 
And with a sigh, she put the heavy book back. Mrs. 
Libby came down stairs with her bonnet and shawl 
on, and Ida, taking a small purse from her pocket, 
asked, “ Will you please to buy a valentine ? ” 

“ What for .? ” 

“ For me to give to you.” 

“ Nonsense ! Little girls don’t send valentines to 
old women like me. Keep your ten cents to put in 
the box, when you get well enough to go to church.” 

Ida sat still a long time after this. She wanted to 
be like other little girls, but all the little girls she had 


10 


THE apothecary’s VALENTINE. 


ever known intimately, were in books, and it so hap- 
pened that none of these had ever spoken of Valentine’s 
Day. The telephone bell rang. Ida heard the house- 
maid order “five pounds of coffee crushed sugar to 
be sent up immediately,” and then an idea came into 
the child’s mind : “ I can’t go out to buy a valentine, 
but I can telephone one.” She repeated again, “ A 
valentine is a declaration of affection ; yes ! I can 
telephone a declaration of affection. Mrs. Libby is 
out. Papa can’t hear in his room, and I’ll get Mary 
to go down and look at the furnace.” Thus Ida 
made her plans. 

The next question was, To whom should she send 
her valentine ? 

“ I’d better look on the telephone list. Seth Ben- 
net, M. D. That’s the doctor who comes to see papa 
and me ; he wouldn’t be in — he is always out. John 
Dixon, grocer ; Thomas Irving, baker ; oh, here is 
R. H. Whitney ! That’s the nice apothecary man 
who brings the medicines. I’d like to send him a 
valentine.” 

Richard Whitney’s clerk stood at the telephone. 
Messages were coming in very fast that February 


THE apothecary’s VALENTINE. II 

afternoon. Sam Jones, the under clerk, was putting 
up the packages : “One porous plaster for Mrs. Lewis. 
Two ounces pulverized slippery elm bark, sent imme- 
diately to 19 Spruce St. Some one wants to speak 
to Mr. Whitney.” “ All right,” he shouted back 
through the telephone. “ He’s in the back shop ; I’ll 
call him.” 

There was a smell of chloroform in the back shop. 
Mr. Whitney, on top of a step ladder, was preparing 
a prescription. 

“A lady wants to speak to you, sir,” said the clerk. 
“ Couldn’t she give the message ? ” 

“ Said she couldn’t.” 

Mr. Whitney went to the telephone and called 
“ What’s wanted ? ” 

To his astonished ears came back : “ I send you a 
declaration of affection.” 

“ I do not understand,” said the apothecary, not 
quite sure of his hearing. 

The message was repeated, each word very distinct 
“ Who is it ? ” 

“ Your Valentine.” 

Sam Jones, judging from the expression of Mr. 


12 


THE apothecary’s VALENTINE. 


Whitney’s face that it was a case of strangling, convul 
sions, or poisoning, had taken down his hat ready to 
run. “No matter, Sam,” said his employer, returning 
to the chloroform atmosphere of the back shojD. It 
could not be a joke ; the voice was too sweet and 
true. A child’s voice — a little girl’s, he thought — 
but he did not know any little girls. It might be one 
of the orphans at the asylum — probably was. Every 
Christmas Richard Whitney had been in the habit of 
sending a number of small bottles of cologne to the 
large brick house over the way. He did it from prin- 
ciple, not from any acquintance with the children. 

Valentine’s evening there was an exhibition at the 
asylum. Richard Whitney went. “Such a kind 
gentleman,” said the matron ; “ he spoke to every 
child.” 

Then the public school examinations took place. 
Richard Whitney attended them all. 

He became a Sunday-school superintendent ; next 
he got his sister to give a little girls’ party. 

“ Mr. Whitney has grown awful fond of children all 
of a sudden,” said the head clerk to the second clerk. 
Ah, but no one knew he was listening for the voice 


1 DO NOT UNDERSTAND/’ SAID THE APOTHECARY. 



14 


THE apothecary’s VALENTINE. 


of his valentine. The apothecary and Ida’s papa 
were old friends ; of late years they had seldom met, 
but these last months of Mr. Hammond’s illness had 
brought them together again. Ida was a shy child 
and kept out of the way of visitors. The apothecary 
was not aware that he had ever seen her. 

One April afternoon he met a womanly little girl 
coming down-stairs with a tray in her hand. “ Miss 
Ida, I suppose,” he said passing her. Ida nodded 
gravely, and as Richard Whitney looked over the 
balustrade he thought, “ What a lonely life for a 
child ! I wonder if she goes out much ! I will give 
her a drive to-morrow.” 

Mr. Hammond was very weak that night, and when 
Richard Whitney bending over him, asked, “ John, 
will you trust your little daughter to me ? ” the only 
reply was a tighter clasp of the hand. 

Early the next morning Sam Jones left a parcel of 
gum-drops and a note for Miss Ida Hammond. Pres- 
ently the telephone bell rang and the head clerk said 
again, “A lady wishes to speak to you.” 

The message was simply this : “ Thank you very 

much ; I cannot go — papa is worse.” 


THE apothecary’s VALENTINE. 


15 


Richard Whitney started. It was the voice he had 
waited so long to hear. “ Why, it’s Hammond’s little 
girl,” he said, hurrying down the street. “ Poor 
child ! ” 

Papa died a few days later, leaving his little 
daughter in the care of his old friend ; and now, every 
day, a child in a black dress comes into the shop, to 
walk home with uncle Richard. 

“ Wonder why he calls her Valentine ; thought her 
name w^as Ida,” said the head clerk. 

“ Perhaps Valentine is her middle name,” suggested 
Sam Jones. 

“ That must be it,” said the head clerk ; “ yes, 
that must certainly be the reason.” 


COMPENSATION. 

Of two foxes one hunted all morning and caught a 
goose ; the other got his rest and went without his 
dinner. “ I had a good hunt,” said the first, “wdiich 
gave me a good appetite and something to fill it.” “ I 
had a good sleep,” replied the other, “ wTich took 
away my appetite, so that I needed nothing to fill it.” 


KATY’S BIRTHDAY. 


ATY was a little girl who lived in the country, 



^ and this was her ninth birthday, and she felt 
very old indeed. She did not wake up until later 
than usual that morning, and her father and Henry 
(the man who helped him do the farm work) had 
gone away early to a distant pasture to salt the cattle, 
so there was only her mother to make much of so 
•great an occasion and to say anything about the birth- 
day. But her father had left a bright ten cent piece 
for her, which was very kind of him, and Henry had 
left a little package on the shelf by the clock, and 
when she opened it, she found it held some candy. 
As for her mother’s present, it was a great deal better 
than the others, though I am not sure that Katy 
thought so. It was a new speckled calico dress ; Mrs. 
Dunley said she had never seen a prettier figure, and 
it was hanging over a chair all ready to be put on 


katy’s birthday. 


17 


when they had finished what there was to do in the 
kitchen. That did not take long, for, as I have said, 
it was already late. 

The day before had been the last day of school, 
and in the evening the scholars had given the teacher 
a surprise party at the house where she boarded, and 
it did not break up until after ten o’clock ; but nobody 
had thought it was so late. Jimmy Manson, one of 
the big boys, had put the clock back an hour, and as 
for Katy — she had never been out so late in her 
life — it is no wonder she could not wake up next 
morning. She fell asleep in the wagon just before 
she got home, and would have gone overboard in two 
minutes more if Henry had not caught her. Of course 
she had to go right to bed, and could not tell her 
mother much about the party that night, but this 
morning she had a great deal to say, while her mother 
asked a question now and then as she went about her 
work; and she told Katy two or three times that she 
wished she had been there herself. 

After awhile Katy put on the new dress. She did 
not often have a new one, and she liked this very 
much. Her mother said it fitted her beautifully ; it 


i8 


katy’s birthday. 


was full large enough, but she would grow to it. She 
sat on the doorstep awhile, feeling very much 
dressed up, and as if this were a most uncommon day, 
being the first day of vacation and her birthda) 
beside. 

After awhile she asked her mother what she should 
do. 

I don’t know,” said Mrs. Dunley, “ but you may 
do anything you like to-day. To-morrow you must 
help me in the house, for I shall be very busy. I 
spoke to Cynthia Downs to come and help me, but 
she sent word she couldn’t till the first of the week. 
Your father’s got some men coming in the morning 
and he’s going to begin haying.” 

“ Oh, that’ll be fun,” said Katy, but I am afraid 
she was thinking more of taking the jug of molasses 
and water out into the field, and playing among the 
hay-cocks, and getting a ride on the hay cart, than 
she did of the hard work in the house. She always 
liked haying time. 

She thought about this for a time, and then began 
to consider what she should do with her holiday. 
“I’ve thought of two things,” she said presently; “I 


katy’s birthday. 


19 


don’t know whether to take ofl; this dress and put on 
the old brown one I tore last Saturday and you said 
I couldn’t wear it any more, and go up the brook and 
make dams, or go over where father and Henry are, 
and ride home with them.” 

“ They’ll be home pretty soon,” said her mother, 
“ and you can have a ride then. Henry’s going to the 
store to get some new rakes and tools they’re going to 
use haying. I promised your father’s aunt Phebe 
that you should spend a day with her before long and 
you might as well go there to-day; you can let Henry 
leave you there. You will have a nice time. How 
should you like that ” 

Katy looked sorry for a minute. She was counting 
on playing in the brook, if the truth must be told, but 
she could do that any day, and she said at once that 
she would go to see her aunt who was a very kind 
old lady, and Katy was not half so much afraid of her 
as she was of most people whom she saw but seldom. 
And then it would have been a trial to take off the 
new dress when she had just put it on. 

“ You can wear your best hat too,” said Mrs. Dun- 
ley, “and I want you to take aunt Phebe the rest of 


20 


KATY S BIRTHDAY. 


those tarts that were made for the surprise party; she 
likes sweet things. Marthy that lives with her is 
away for a week too.” 

Katy smiled approval ; she liked sweet things her- 
self, and she thought very likely her aunt would ask 
her to eat one of the tarts. 

She did not have to wait long, for Henry came 
earlier than he was expected. Mrs. Dunley said she 
would drive over in the cool of the afternoon and 
bring Katy home, for it would be her last chance to 
have the horse for some time. “ I suppose you will 
want the horse every minute for the next three weeks ? ” 
she said to Henry, and they both laughed, and he said 
they might be even longer haying if it rained as much 
as it did the last summer. 

“I s'pose it's your birthday.? ” asked Henry, after 
they had started, looking down at the top of Katy’s 
head, where the white ribbons of the best hat were 
bravely fluttering. “ Wish you happy New Year,” 
said he. 

“ Why New Year comes in the winter,” answered 
Katy, looking up at him with great surprise. 

“You’re nine years old to-day, and yesterday you 


katy’s birthday. 


21 


said you weren’t but eight. This is a new year, isn’t 
it ? ” and Katy did not know exactly what to say, but 
she was sure it was not New Year day or Christmas 
either for that matter. 

“ My birthday was a week ago yesterday, and I was 
out of my time; tell you, I was glad,” said Henry. 

“Why,” asked Katy, “ what are you going to do?” 

“Vote,” answered Henry after having stopped 
some time to think, “ and — well, a good many things; 
anybody likes to be out of their time. You’re your 
own master, you know,” and presently Katy plucked 
up courage to ask him whom his master used to be. 
Which only made him laugh and reach out to strike 
some clover heads with his whip. “You wait till you 
get bigger and you’ll know all about it,” he told her. 

Katy remembered just then to thank him for the 
candy, and there was a piece of it left, so she offered 
him a bite, and then finished it herself, and wished 
there had been more, when Henry gave her two pep- 
permint lozenges which he found in his pocket, and 
she was rich and happy again. 

After driving about two miles, they came in sight 
of aunt Phebe’s house. It stood at some distance 


22 


katy’s birthday. 


from the main road at the end of a lane, and as Henry 
was in a hurry, Katy got out of the wagon to walk 
the rest of the way, which was shady and pleasant. 
She went slowly along carrying the tarts carefully, 
and catching sometimes at the whiteweeds and snap- 
ping them off between her fingers, which she always 
thought great fun. She saw that the front door of 
the house was wide open, so she went in that way, and 
all of a sudden she felt very much afraid and whished 
she had not come. She was only a shy little girl and 
it was hard work for her to speak and behave herself 
when she met a stranger. She knocked softly with 
the great brass knocker as she stood on the doorstep, 
but nobody took any notice of it. Aunt Phebe her- 
self was very deaf, and after waiting a minute or two 
Katy went into the parlor, for the door stood open, 
and she heard her aunt walking about up-stairs, 
stepping quickly as if she were in a great hurry. She 
is coming right down, thought the little girl, and she 
will see me, and seated herself on the high slippery 
sofa and sat there, feeling very uncomfortable with 
her feet a good way from the floor. She had put the 
plate of tarts on the table, and she meekly folded her 


katy’s birthday. 


23 


hands and waited ; it was very still, only she heard 
the footsteps overhead and wondered what aunt 
Phebe could be doing. She had a mind to go up to 
find out, but she did not know whether she ought 
to do such a thing. 

There came a little gust of wind just then and 
blew down-stairs and through the house, and suddenly 
the door of the parlor began to move, and it slowly 
shut itself. Katy watched it, and wondered if it 
would bang, but it did not ; and while she was thinking 
about it she heard some one come across the entry 
and turn the key and lock her, in and before she had 
time to speak, she heard the front door shut also, and 
then she called as loud as she could and flattened 
her face against the window, and she saw aunt Phebe 
put the great door key carefully in her pocket, and 
walk away down the lane. Poor Katy 1 she knocked 
on the window until she was afraid she should break 
it, and she shouted and ran to pound on the door, 
but it was all no use, for aunt Phebe was deaf as the 
deafest haddock that ever lived in the sea. She was 
dressed in her best clothes and her cap-basket 
was on her arm ; it was plain enough that, as often 


24 


katy’s birthday. 


happened, she was going out to spend the day. 

Poor Katy ! it makes me sad to think about her, for 
it seemed as if her heart would break. There were so 
many things she would have liked to do much better 
than to stay in that prim best room of aunt Phebe’s 
where all .the chairs were too high for her to sit on 
with any comfort, and there was nobody to speak to ; 
and perhaps aunt Phebe might stay until after sup- 
per and then she would be kept there in her prison 
until after dark, which would be awful. She tried to 
push up one of the windows, but they must have been 
fastened down by some secret known to aunt Phebe 
alone, for they could not be moved, and poor Katy 
even went into the big fireplace to see if there were 
any way up tlf^ chimney; but what comfort could a 
glimpse of the pale sky have been, for it looked fur- 
ther away than ever, and the chimney looked impos- 
sible to climb, even for a poor little chimney-sweep 
whose melancholy history our friend had read in her 
Sunday-school book a yeek or two before. She sat 
down to brush the ashes off the new best dress, and 
she felt very dismal, for it was such a pleasant day 
out of doors, and her. birthday too ! She could hear 


KATY'S BIRTHDAY. 


25 


the bobolinks singing in the field next the house and 
the little garden looked so pleasant with the great red 
peonies just going out of bloom and scattering their 
flowers on the ground underneath until it was covered 
with shining crimson petals. It would have been 
such fun to shake the pinies, as Katy called them, 
and make them come to pieces faster. It ^ould have 
been fun to do anything but stay there where she was. 
She looked at the pictures on the walls, and admired 
some that were worked in silk, to her heart’s content. 
There was a fine large house in one picture with some 
trees round it, and a little boy dressed in blue and 
pink, riding a white pony at the side of a rose bush 
that was covered with very big red roses. Katy 
always had liked this picture ever since she could 
remember, and after all it was a great comfort that 
she was shut up in this room instead of the sitting- 
room, which would have been very stupid. 

On a table at one side the room under the look- 
ing-glass, there was a great glass lamp with a globe 
almost as big as the moon, so our friend thought, and 
around it there were cut glass pendants that jingled 
together beautifully, while something clacked in the 


26 


katy’s birthday. 


lamp itself whenever she went near it, so at last she 
bethought herself to walk back and forth until she 
was tired out to hear the jingling, and this really used 
up a great deal of time. If she had only brought her 
doll it would have been a great satisfaction, but there 
was not a single thing to play with, and she did not 
dare to l^ndle aunt Phebe’s treasures in the best 
room. 

I think that Katy will always laugh when she 
remembers how long that summer day seemed and 
how hard she tried to amuse herself. She picked a 
little bit of charred wood from the fireplace where 
aunt Phebe had lately had a fire to smoke out some 
swallows, and played hopscotch with it, using the 
large figures of the carpet for bounds. I am afraid 
her stout little shoes and her quick jumps and scuffles 
did not do the thin old carpet much good either, but 
she played by herself for a long time, and afterward 
she looked at every picture in the great Bible which 
aunt Phebe had shown her often before when she had 
stopped there with her father and mother on Sunday 
aftern6ons. 

And presently she began to grow very hungry. It 


katy’s birthday. 


27 


seemed to her that it must be the middle of the after- 
noon ; there had never been so long a day in her life, 
but it was really only a little later than her own din- 
ner time, and she lifted the white napkin from the 
plate of tarts and wondered whether it would be right 
to eat one. She had picked the strawberries for 
them herself ; they had been very thick that year, 
and her mother had made the tarts for the surprise 
party, but there had beent hese three left, and they 
did look very good indeed. They were large tarts 
and the crust was all flaky, for Mrs. Dunley prided 
herself on her cooking, and some of the pink syrup 
of the strawberries was leaking out on the plate, and 
Kat.y took some of it on the end of her finger, and it 
tasted a great deal better than it had the night before ; 
but she covered the tarts again with the napkin, and 
went over to the sofa to sit down to wait, and she gave 
a heavy sigh. She could hear the large clock ticking- 
out in the entry — it was half-way up the stairs on a 
landing, but she could hear it tick easily — and she 
thought how dreadful it must be to be deaf like aunt 
Phebe. She wondered if she could hear it thunder; 
and then there came an awful thought that there 


28 


katy’s birthday. 


might be a thunder shower that afternoon, for poor 
Katy was always frightened then ; but to her relief 
there did not seem to be a cloud in the sky. 

At last she grew so hungry that she could not 
resist the tarts any longer, and she was sure that 
aunt Phebe would forgive her, so she ate one, and it 
was the best tart she had ever eaten in her life ; and 
before she could stop to think, she had eaten another, 
and she would liked to have had the other one too, 
but she did not think that would be right, and she went 
away to the other side of the room and sat down in 
the corner and cried, she was so hungry still, and 
lonely and tired, and to think that this was her birth- 
day ! 

Luckily she soon went to sleep, and I do not 
know how long she was lying there on the floor with 
her head on a little bit of a cricket which aunt 
Phebe had worked many years before ; but at last 
she heard somebody knocking at the front door — 
banging away with the old knocker as if they were 
in a great hurry ; and at first she was very fright- 
ened, and thought it might be robbers, and she 
would go under the sofa and hide. But she heard 


katy’s birthday. 


29 


some voices that did not sound like robbers at 
all, and at last she dared to look out, and then 
she knocked on the window and called, “ Mother ! 
mother ! come back and let me out ! ” for she was 
just in time to see her mother go away as aunt 
Phebe had done in the morning. 

Mrs. Dunley was all dressed up, and looked 
very smiling, and some one was with her, and they 
both turned when they heard the raps on the 
window, and to Katy’s great joy they hurried 
back at the sight of her tear-stained, anxious little 
face. 

“ Aunt Phebe did not know I was here, and she 
went out to spend the day and locked me in ; ” and 
poor Katy began to cry harder than ever. 

Mother could not help laughing at first ; but she 
and the stranger nodded, and said they would let 
her out, and went away around the corner of the 
house. 

The stranger, who proved to be Katy’s uncle, 
found some way *of scrambling into the house, and 
soon the key of the parlor door was turned, in 
the lock and the prisoner was let free. And her 


30 


katy’s birthday. 


mother gave her the other tart at once, and thought 
she must have been very hungry. 

Aunt Phebe came home in a little while, just as 
they were going away, and you may be sure that she 
felt dreadfully about Katy’s misfortunes. She had 
been going to spend the day with a friend, and had 
been promised a ride with some neighbors who were 
going in the same direction, if she would reach their 
house in good season ; so she had hurried away early. 

They all stayed to tea, and Katy’s father came 
over too — as Mrs. Dunley had arranged before she 
left home — for Katy’s uncle Dan had just come' 
home from a long voyage at sea, and it was an 
occasion of great rejoicing. ^ 

Katy remembered him very well, though she was 
only six years old when he went away, and now she 
was nine that very day. Her birthday was not 
altogether forgotten, nor her solitary day, for every- 
body was very good to her. Kind aunt Phebe 
made her eat a great deal more than she really 
wanted at supper time, and kissed her and patted 
her on her shoulder a number of times, and asked 
her to come some other day to make up for that 


katy’s birthday. 


31 


one ; and Katy said she should like to come dearly, 
and said to herself that she would not be afraid next 
time to hunt for aunt Phebe all over the house. 

Uncle Dan was the merriest and kindest-hearted of 
sailors, and he kept them laughing half the time. 
He had brought aunt Phebe a work-box from the 
East Indies, and a funny little bright shawl to wear 
over her shoulders, which she was afraid looked too 
gay for her ; but uncle Dan shouted to her that 
she was growing younger every year instead of 
older, like other people. 

And when Katy reached home that night she 
found a Chinese doll and a fan with funny pictures 
on it, and some shells and beads that had come from 
an island a great way off, and a book about London, 
and last but not least a paper of candy which uncle 
Dan had brought to her. And she said that after 
all this had been the best birthday she had ever 
spent. 


SUMMER. 


S WEE'F Summer comes with blossoms crowned ; 

Her fair hand-maidens throng her round ; 
And as her footsteps touch the hills 
They wake the voices of the rills. 

She paints the plains with varying light, 

And waving shadows, warm and bright ; 

She floats throughout the azure air. 

Waking soft music everywhere. 

The busy* bee with drowsy hum. 

Bears heavy burdens slovVly home ; 

'fhe butterflies flit to and fro 

O’er swampy spots where mosses grow. 

The warm June sunshine softly falls 
On terraced walks and gardened walls. 

Where hang the roses, red and fair. 

Filling with fragrance all the air. 

They bloom their careless, happy hour 
And fall, a scented, noiseless shower ; 

A part of Summer’s mission bright 
To thrill some heart with sweet delight. 

O 


Fill up the hour with what will last ; 

Buy up the moments as they go ; 
The life above, when this is past 
Is the ripe fruit of life below. 


Bryant, 


THE FIRM OF PUNKAPOG 
& BOSS. 

B OSS, boss! it is all the time boss, just as it is all 
the time egg, egg 1 I am tired! Everything comes 
from an egg, gets born an egg, and p’raps has just 
got to be another egg in the end. Papa is a boss, 
Peter was born a boss himself and always will be 
boss. I am tired of it, I say.” 

“Harry, I say!” called a youthful voice in the 
tone of a major-general, “ did I not tell you to feed 

the dogs and to comb Pog ?” 

“ A fellow can’t do everything at once,” answered 
Harry fiercely; “ I’ll do it when I get ready.” 

- “ Oh, it is too late now ; they must be washed first. 
Come along.” 

“Oh Peter,” said Esther, “don’t be so bossy, it 


spoils all the fun.” 


34 


THE FIRM OF PUNKAPOG & BOSS. 


“Well,” replied Peter, “lie ought to have remem- 
bered what I told him. I’m not bossing. I only 
want him to pay attention. Come along, Hal. 
They’ve got to be washed to-day, for Monday and 
'ruesday the girls boss the kitchen with washing and 
ironing, and Wednesdays and Saturdays with pie and 
cake baking, and there isn’t any other day than Sun- 
day; so it has got to be done to-day.” 

“There’s Thursday and Friday,” said Hal; “and 
I should like to know if mamma isn’t more boss 
of the week and of the tubs than you or the 
girls.” 

“ Yes, I am ; ” said his mother, quietly coming into 
the room. “ Stop disputing ; and do you, Harry, wash 
one dog, while Peter blacks his boots ; and then 
Peter can wash the other dog and you can brush 
both pairs of your boots. Both pairs.” 

With a grumbling, shuffling sound they disappeared 
— two boys, two dogs and one girl. Somehow Sunday 
morning in this house was very far from being peace- 
ful between nine and ten o’clock in the morning, a 
time otherwise known as “ boot and dog hour.” From 
seven to eight there was the usual amount of friction 


THE FIRM OF PUNKAPOG & BOSS. 3S 

up-stairs in rubbing black knees and dusty heads, 
which, if not accompanied by the final splash down 
the sloping side of the bath-tub, a process that 
scattered water, soap and brushes wildly about, 
would not have been tolerated by the children. This 
final plunge into the shallow depths of a bathing 
tub, and then lying there making believe dead and 
happy, atoned for all the sorrows of cleanliness. 

Breakfast was always a jolly meal, made up of 

w 

whatever was left over from the previous day’s extra 
dinner, or of melting ice-cream on hot oatmeal, a 
most frequent dish ; for mamma never knew how to 
calculate upon just enough quarts for the evening 
company. Some pink and white and brown was 
always left, which was turned into one mould and 
covered up again with ice, so that when re-opened in 
the morning there would be a little hard centre, 
while all the rest was delightfully mushy and didn’t 
have to be stirred into a pudding before eaten, and 
wasn’t so awfully cold. After breakfast the two dogs 
had to be washed. Pillow-cases and towels from the 
soiled clothes-box were donned as aprons, and great 
sheets laid down on the floor to receive the dripping 


36 


THE FIRM OF PUNKAPOG & BOSS. 


four-legged creatures, who were then rolled and 
banged and shaken and sopped dry, and at the end 
the dogs looked very small, mean, and close-haired, 
and the thinnest sheets had holes made by the four 
legs, and the girls were cross that all the hot water 
was gone, and mamma was cross that she had to mend 
the sheets, and carbolic soap scented everything. 
Every Sunday it was said this should not happen 
again, and every Sunday it did. 

Then came the boot-blacking; and the blacking 
got on to the sheets, and after rubbing the dogs hard, 
the boys were too tired to polish their boots, and the 
smaller boy looked so piteous, and his arms hung so 
limp over the moist boot (he always put too much 
water into the blacking), that the cook would softly 
steal into the laundry and brush his boots ; for he 
was very sad at having to do so much work, and cook 
was used to working, he said. And the dogs could 
not have been washed, nor the boots blacked, unless 
the older brother had done the usual amount of boss- 
ing, which made the hour hard; for both boss and 
bossee grew hot during the process. 

And this is what made Harry utter the words with 


THE FIRM OF PUNKAPOG & BOSS. 


37 


which this story began. His older brother had told 
him, when he was only half awake, to run down-stairs 
and feed the dogs and get that out of the way, and 
then after breakfast they could be washed — for the 
health of neither Skye terrier nor of American boy 
allows a bath to follow instantly upon a breakfast 
eaten at the rate of ten mouthfuls to a minute. Peter 
had gone up-stairs after issuing his commands, to take 
an extra nap, and Harry, indignant at being so 
promptly reminded of the day’s duties devolving 
upon a younger brother, had loitered, until he had 
done — nothing. So it was natural for the cook to 
think he had a particularly hard time of it to-day, and 
as this was his every-other Sunday to go to church, 
she concluded to help him a bit. 

Therefore Harry appeared in the library with his 
forlorn little dog and his bright black boots, and his 
little mouth telling all sorts of happy secrets, very 
much sooner than usual. But so had he a fortnight 
ago, which was also his every-other Sunday for 
church, and also the fortnight before that, and each 
time the boots had shone with such unusual brilliancy 
that mamma’s suspicions were aroused. “ Don’t 


3 ^ 


THE FIRM OF PUNKAPOG & BOSS. 


your arms ache from blacking those boots so nicely?” 
she asked. 

“Oh, no, not much — just enough!” he replied. 

“I really don’t see,” she continued, “how you 
could have done it so well and so quickly. Suppojj 
you take mine and give them a shine.” 

Harry looked puzzled as he said, “ I can’t — Mary 
— Mary has gone up-stairs.” 

“ What has Mary to do with the boots ? ” asked 
the mother. 

“Well, she has, and I can’t.” And he began to 
industriously comb his dog. The mother put a fresh 
log upon the blazing wood fire, and some ashes got 
on the boots, which Harry had placed on the hearth. 
“O mamma,” he exclaimed,” you have soiled my 
boots 1 ” 

“Yes,” said she, “ and Mary has gone up-stairs; 
but I guess you can brush them yourself this time.” 

“ You did it on purpose,” he exclaimed. “ How 
did you know Mary blacked them ? ” 

She gave him no answer, only a funny little wink 
out of one corner of her eye, and off he went like a 
flash. The ashes came off quickly, he found ; but 


THE FIRM OF PUNKAPOG & BOSS. 


39 


the lustre was hard to regain. Mary never dared 
help him again. 

In the afternoon the children always went to walk ; 
but to-day Peter declared he should go alone with 
“the firm,” and his mother consented. This firm 
was known under the name of Punkapog & Boss ; 
for Punky was the name of one dog, and Pog was the 
other called ; the boy, of course, was Boss. On the 
way they met another “ firm ” known as “ Hounds & 
Zounds, ” for the senior partner, the boy, had a way 
of saying “Zounds,” just as other people begin every 
sentence with “ Well. ” The two firms joined com- 
pany and talked about dogs, horses, politics, and 
barked. They also spoke of the cat-show that was 
to open the next day. 

“ Zounds, ” said the elder firm, “have a ticket to the 
cat-show. My father has got something to do with it. 
They have been to him and want him to say in all the 
newspapers that that hairless cat is the genuine article. 
Father says he is going to clean shave our cat, except 
just round her eyes, where it will hurt too much — that 
cat on exhibition has hairs round her eyes if you look 
close ; and then he’s going to give her a cold bath, and 


40 


THE FIRM OF PUNKAPOG & BOSS. 


her skin will be all wrinkled up like my sister’s kid 
gloves when I have scented them with pennyroyal 
just to plague her; and then he’s going to label her, 
‘ Afghanistan Hairless Cat,’ and exhibit her in the 
cage next to the Genuine Hairless Gat. They’ll look 
as like as two peas, and you won’t be able to tell which 
is genuine and which is art. Here’s your ticket, 
come along in to-morrow and see the fun;” and 
whistling to his greyhound she bade good-by to the 
firm of Punkapog & Boss. 

On reaching home, Peter pinned the ticket on his 
pin-cushion, and proceeded at intervals throughout 
the evening to instruct his 5^ounger brother in jokes 
fo^the next day’s rehearsal. In return for his in- 
struction, he saw at breakfast a biscuit on his plate. 
Too wary to be caught, he opened it and found it 
sprinkled with black pepper. Saying nothing, he 
carefully nibbled round the edges, then turning to 
Harry, asked in generous, sudden fashion, “ Fond of 
dates? Well, then, let’s have some, I’ve got some;” 
and he thrust his hands into his pockets. 

“ Goody ! ” said the little fellow ; “ do give me one ! ” 
‘More if you like, but one at a time. What’s the 


THE FIRM OF PUNKAPOG & BOSS. 


4 


date of the Battle of Lexington ? Want another?” 

“That’s mean,” said Harry, while the others 
laughed at the unexpected change from peppered 
biscuit to dates. Peter started for school, with the 
promise that on his return his brother might ride his 
velocipede. Good luck favored the boys, and school 
closed two hours earlier than usual, because the 
teachers were called to a meeting of the Supervisors, 
— as Harry said, “ the teacher even has a boss, it is 
all boss.” 

They started on the velocipede frolic, but all the 
big boys were out, and it seemed rather stupid fun to 
lead Harry along at a walking pace on a velocipede ; 
so Peter proposed that they should play “station- 
master,” and that the steps of a neighboring house . 
should be station. “ Only very smart boys can be 
station-masters,” declared Peter. “You must watch 
us all the time, see we don’t run into each other, hold 
up the right hand when a velocipede comes down the 
street, and the left hand when one comes up.” 

“I know how,” said Harry, proud of being allowed 
to play station-master for big boys. Meanwhile a 
chilling east wind had sprung up, which did not dis- 


42 


THE FIRM OF PUNKAPOG & BOSS. 


turb the other boys, who kept warm by their swift 
exercise, but which numbed the little fellow, who sat 
there patiently holding up his hands as the express 
trains went to and fro too rapidly to hear hia pleading 
words that he was tired and cold. At last a neighbor, 
who had watched these mysterious actions for some 
time from her window, remembered that it was April 
Fool’s Day, and asked Harry what he was doing. 

“ Playing station-master,” said he proudly, but with 
shivering lips. 

“What does that mean?” 

“Why, I put up and down the signals when they 
pass, just as a station-master does, while they have a 
good time riding; only I think it is my turn now to 
ride.” 

“ So do I,” said the lady. “Do you know it is 
April Fool’s Day ?” 

Harry looked at her in amazement, then calling 
out to the boys, “ Brakes down,” ran off home. “ An 
idea has seized him,” thought the lady; and the big 
' oys were secretly glad that at last he had had pluck 
'--'lough to see through their selfishness. 

On reaching home, Harry declared to the dogs of 


THE FIRM OF PUNKAPQG & BOSS. 


43 


the Punkapog firm that he’d play a better April Fool 
than had been played on him. But his intelligence 
had not yet attained unto the devising of original 
methods ; he could only do what he had seen done. 
So he looked round for some pieces of paper to pin 
secretly to some one’s dress at which the passers by 
should laugh and cry “April Fool.” His eyes 
lighted on the ticket pinned on to his brother’s 
cushion. 

“ That’ll do it,” he said ; “ it won’t tear like paper. 
Come along Funky, Fog. And out of the house and 
down the street they ran, nearly upsetting the firm of 
Zounds & Hounds. 

“ Something is up, ” cried the elder partner. 
“Zounds, I shall know in course of time. No use to 
hurry, or expect, in this world.” 

Harry’s speed slackened, as, out of reach of home, 
he looked round for some coat-tail or shawl on which 
to pin his treasure. At last he saw a lady slowly 
sailing down the street, wearing a large red shawl 
whose point almost touched the sidewalk. “ That’s 
the kind,” thought Harry; “her shawl is so long, 
she’ll never know if I catch hold of it. Keep still. 


44 


THE FIRM OF PUNKAPOG & BOSS. 


you dogs,” he exclaimed aloud ; “ no barking, or you’ll 
spoil all ! ” 

Cautiously he crept along, seized the end of the 
shawl, lifted it very gently as he walked bent double 
behind the lady, that she might not feel his approach 
by having the shawl dragged from her, as would be 
the case if he walked upright. He took out his ticket 
— but a pin, oh for a pin ! none in front of or under- 
neath his jacket. Biting the ticket with his teeth, 
and clinging on to the shawl with one hand, with the 
other he pulled a pin by main force from his collar, 
thereby tearing his shirt, and inserted the pin through 
the ticket on to the shawl. It would not hold. He 
was in despair ; but, like a wise thinker, he stood 
upright, keeping the ticket in his hand, and allowed 
the lady to walk nearly to the next block, lest she 
should begin to suspect something, before venturing 
on a second attack. The extrication of one pin had 
loosened another which was a ver}^ stout one ; so, as 
she turned the corner, he went through the same op- 
eration, and this time successfully; and then went 
home congratulating himself on having “fixed her;” 
little thinking how he had fixed himself and his brother. 


THE FIRM OF PUNKAPOG & BOSS. 


45 


That individual soon returned ; and on meeting 
Harry, told him condescendingly that as he had been 
such a careful station-master, the boys would not 
mind his having become tired, but would let him play 
it again. “ But where is my cat-show ticket ? ” he 
exclaimed. 

He searched everywhere. Harry had vanished. 
Peter opened drawers, boxes, book-cases, fishing- 
cases, museums, and turned over all the scrap-baskets 
in the house, calling on every one in an excited tone. 
No one knew about it, but every one hunted for it. 

“ Where is Harry ? Why don’t he come and help ? 
The hair will have grown on that hairless cat* before 
I get there. Harry, Harry, you rascal, come here, 
quick ! double-quick ! ” 

The child came with a dog under each arm. 

“Put down those dogs, they are not yours. Help 
me hunt for my ticket.” 

“What ticket?” asked the little boy. 

“ What ticket ? The one I had stuck on to my pin- 
cushion ; — you know,” exclaimed he, starting round 
and facing Harry squarely as he caught sight of his 
frightened eyes. 


46 


THE FIRM OF PUNKAPOG & BOSS. 


“You mean that square little piece of green paste- 
board? I pinned that on to a lady’s shawl in Pond 
street for an April Fool.” 

“You did, did you?” ejaculated his brother in 
wrathful tones. 

“ Well, yes ; and you need not be so cross about it. 
Can’t you get it back again ? ” asked Harry. 

“No, I can’t. Who was it? For an April Fool! 
Pretty expensive kind of a fool ! And taking other 
people’s property too 1 What’s station-master to this ? ” 

“ Well,” said Harry meekly, “ I only wanted to 
do it on some on eelse as you did on me. I didn’t 
think anything about its being a ticket to anything at 
first; and when I did, after I had done it, she had 
gone out of sight, and I supposed she’d know enough 
to return it; but perhaps she couldn’t tell to whom it 
belonged. I don’t think she’d mean to keep it.” 

And here the little fellow began to cry and the 
dogs began to bark, and Zounds & Hounds came 
in, and the mother, who said she would give them / 
tickets all round to go to the cat-show if they would 
never April Fool nor boss each other any more, nor 
play station-master, and would always keep dogs and 


THE HOPE WORKS. 


47 


boots clean. They said that was too much to prom- 


ise all at once, but they could think about it. 

So they went to the cat-show and saw the hairless 
cats. 


THE HOPE WORKS. 

CHAPTER I. 

UNT LUCINDA was reading her Sunday Her- 



1 V aid. She had read it pretty thoroughly, the 
outside and the inside, and the supplement on both 
sides, but she hated to leave off, because then she 
would have to get up and begin to write some letters. 
She felt rather tired because little Elsie was not very 
well, and they had been up with her in the night. 

So aunt Lucinda kept on reading her paper through 
her spectacles, and she came upon an advertisement 
something like this, down in a corner : 

“ For the little Girls. Entirely fresh style dolls, ten 
inches tall, charming and life-tinted features . four by mail, 
several dresses and faces both light and dark, blue-eyed and 
black, for fifty cents ; stamps taken. 


** The Hope Works, Fair Haven, W. I.” 


48 


THE HOPE WORKS. 


“Seems to me,” thought aunt Lucinda, “those 
dolls may amuse Elsie. I think I will send for them, 
as they will take stamps.” 

So she got up and went to her Davenport, and took 
some scissors and cut out the advertisement, which 
she stuck with gum upon a sheet of paper, and then 
she wrote underneath : 


“ Please send a set to Miss Elsie Robbs. Care of Mr. 
Johnathan Robbs.” 

Then she added the right address of the street and 
number, and town and State. 

After this aunt Lucinda counted out sixteen green 
three-cent stamps, and one red two-cent stamps 
which made, she was pretty sure, fifty cents’ worth, 
and laid them in the note which she folded up and 
put in an envelope, and then stuck it together and 
addressed it on the outside : 

“the hope works.” 


Then she began to feel pretty tired, and putting 
down her pen and leaning back in her high-backed 


49 


THE HOPE WORKS. 

chair, she took off her spectacles and dropped 
asleep ! A little wind came along and blew the 
letter out of the window, for it was a warm day, one 
of the first, and the window next the desk was open. 

CHAPTER II. 

Luckily, the wind blew the letter to the very spot 
where the real Hope Works is established, but it is 
not in Fair Haven, W. I. 

It is in the county of Nobody-knows, a large, cool, 
green valley, well adapted for the works, which 
require steam power, and water power, and horse 
power, and man power, and women-and-little-children 
power, and every other kind of power that makes 
and moves. 

Quantities of people are busy all the time hurrying 
about giving orders and receiving them, and mixing 
and stirring ; for a great deal of Hope is required all 
the time, and it would be dreadful if the supply 
should give out. 

Large anchors are put up over the doors, and 
everything is painted green everywhere. In the very 


50 THE HOPE WORKS. 

middle is a large tank where the ingredients are put 
to be combined ; and here the workers bring mate- 
rials from all parts of the earth and air and sky, 
wherever they can find them of good quality : these 
materials are such things as prayers and tears, and 
kind little actions and great sacrifices ; they are good 
resolutions and generous lives ; legends like that of 
St. Elizabeth and her roses, and stories about children 
that might, could, would, or should have been good. 
Besides this foundation there has to be essence of 
music and sunshine, and bird-chirruping and noise of 
waves ; and the mixtures must be very delicately 
flavored, not to be too exciting, which would change 
it to Desire, or too flat, when it is called “Don’t 
care,” and nobody touches it. 

There are different vats into which it runs when 
made, for after this it must be divided and the parts 
seasoned differently to make the different kinds of 
Hope that are needed. 

There must be Hope for children who are sick, that 
they will get well ; for lost children, that they will be 
found ; for naughty ones, that they will grow good ; 


THE HOPE WORKS. 


5 * 


for those who are trying hard, that they will succeed . 
for those who hate arithmetic, that they will soon get 
through with the multiplication table ; that tired little 
children in town will go into the country : and a great 
many other such hopes. Also for grown people as 
well as for children ; for those that paint badly, that 
they will either give it up or else improve ; for those 
that live near hand-organs that they will go away : and 
so forth. 

When the fluid is all prepared and separated into 
the vacs, it undergoes a process of evaporation and 
crystallization which reduces its bulk and turns it to 
a fine glistening powder. It is now done up in pack- 
ages at the “ Disseminating Bureau,” and sent about 
as needed. 

CHAPTER III. 

Aunt Lucinda’s letter came in due time to the head 
secretary of the Hope Works, a little man dressed in 
dark green, with green spectacles and a green pen 
stuck over his ear. He read the letter and shook his 
head at first, and then spoke to his seventy-three 


52 


THE HOPE WORKS. 


clerks who were sitting waiting to know what to write ; 

“This is not exactly in our line, but I guess we 
can fix it.’’ For the Hope Works has branch con- 
nections, which enables them to fill all sorts of or- 
ders. 

CHAPTER IV. 

They were having an anxious time at aunt Lucin- 
da’s, for Elsie had grown rapidly worse, with a great 
deal of fever and restlessness. She tossed and tossed 
and tossed on her bed, and did not know what she 
was saying. The doctor hadj;o go away, but he said 
he would come back in a few hours, and he hoped 
meanwhile that Elsie would fall asleep. 

She was lying quite still, in a sort of stupor rather 
than sleep, when the postman came with the letters. 
They were brought to aunt Lucinda, and among others 
was a flat package something like those Hovey sends 
by mail with patterns, addressed to 

“Miss Elsie Robbs, 

Care of Mr. Johnathan Robbs,” 

with the name and number of the street, etc. 


THE HOPE works; 


53 


“ I do believe it is those dolls I sent for ! ” ex- 
claimed aunt Lucinda. “ Poor child ! she is too sick 
to care for them, but I will put them beside her on 
the bed.” So she did. 

From time to time as they watched the child, her 
breathing seemed quieter and her sleep more natu- 
ral, and when the doctor came in and bent over her 
he spoke softly, with a greatly relieved expression : 

“ There is Hope ! ” 

CHAPTER V. 

When Elsie woke up her eyes had a refreshed 
look, and she spoke in her own bright little voice. 
She seemed altogether so well that they allowed 
themselves to amuse her by opening the package 
which had arrived. 

And lo and behold ! there came out of it two little 
figures, about ten inches high, but as light and del- 
icate as air ; something between a soap-bubble and 
fairies they seemed to be. One was blonde, the other 
brunette, and they were dressed alike in sparkling 
robes of greenish gauze, with quivering wings like 


54 


THE HOPE WORKS. 


those of the dragon-flies that dart about over ponds 
in summer. They leaned upon little anchors, and 
saluted the amazed child with graceful bows and 
wavings of their wands. Then as she clapped her 
hands with delighted laughter, they floated up as 
bubbles and balloons do, and soared through the 
room to the window ; and whether they broke like 
bubbles as they floated, or whether they vanished 
into the open sunset light, could not be known. 
But the whole room was filled with the perfume 
of violets and lilies-of-the-valley, and the fresh invig- 
orating sea-weed smell that the breeze brings up 
from the sea. 

% 

CHAPTER VI. 

The door shut with a slight noise, and aunt Lu- 
cinda started from her nap, and her spectacles 
slipped from her hand. 

“ How is Elsie ? ” she asked of the servant who 
came in. 

“ She IS much better, marm,” she replied, “ and 
^ the doctor says she may have some chicken broth.” 


't'ttttv T’''.NF1> UI’ON their I.ITTLE ANCHOR AND SALUTED ELSIl 










HOW JACKY WENT TO 
CHURCH ON EASTER. 

T H.E 'joyous chimes from the tall gray steeple of 
Christ Church rang out : 

“ Christ our Lord is risen to-day, 

■ Sons of nie7t and angels say ; ” 

and from all the church-bells in the city pealed the 
chorus : 

“ Hallelujah / Hallelujah ! '* 

It had been a long, cold winter, but this Easter 
Sunday was as sunny and warm as a day in June. 
Little Jacky Dent’s mamma was not going to church 
this morning, for Katy, the nurse, had asked permis- 
sion to attend morning mass at St. John’s, and 
mamma had said, “ Go if you want to, Katy, and I 
will take care of the babies.” 

So she took Jacky in her lap, and, while the church- 


HOW JACKY WENT TO CHURCH. 


57 


bells were chiming, the birds singing, and the people 
going down Linden street on their way to church, 
told him the old, old, tender story of Christ’s death 
and resurrection; told him, too, how, all over the 
world, on this day, the joyous bells were pealing, 

Christ is risen ; Alleluia!'’' and in all the churches 
there were flowers and sweet music and Easter offer- 
ings to show the people’s joy. 

Just as the last bells were ringing, pretty aunt Prue, 
in a dainty dress and with her sweet face glancing 
from under the Gainsborough hat she wore, came 
over the lawn, followed by her dog, Pug, and Jacky 
ran out to meet her. 

“O Jacky,” she cried, “do keep Pug for me — 
there’s a dear — until I come from church. He has 
followed me, and if I go back with him I shall be 
too late for the service. I’ll call on my way from 
church and take you and Pug home with me for 
dinner.” 

So Jacky, who adored his pretty young auntie, 
promised to take good care of the barking little ter- 
rier and be dressed to go with aunt Prue at twelve 
o’clock. 


58 


HOW JACKY WENT TO CHURCH. 


Mamma tied a stout cord to Pug’s jewelled collar 
— he was a great dandy, was Pug, and aunt Prue min- 
istered to his vanity — and told Jacky he might play 
with the dog in the back yard while she bathed and 
dressed baby. 

Just as baby was splashing in the bath, a mingled 
howl and scream came from the yard. Mamma 
dropped baby as if she had been a hot potato, and 
flew to the rescue. 

It had occurred to Jacky that Pug needed a bath 
too. So with infinite pains he had moved the cistern 
lid enough to admit Pug’s little body, and had 
squeezed him through the opening, all the time cling- 
ing tightly to the cord tied to Pug’s collar. 

There his dogship hung, half-way down the cistern, 
nearly choked to death, until his howl and Jacky’s 
scream had brought mamma to the rescue. 

“Now, Jacky, don’t do that again,” said mamma, 

“ or you will drown poor Pug. My head aches, dear, 
and I want to sleep awhile with baby. Be good to 
Pug, and don’t go out of the yard.” 

Jacky promised to do as mamma said, and indeed 
he meant to keep his promise. He was the dearest 


HOW JACKY WENT TO CHURCH. 


59 


little fellow in the world, with deep, clear eyes (cousin 
Tilde says he has navy-blue eyes), a sweet mouth, and 
yellow hair “banged” straight across his forehead, 
to his mamma’s delight and his papa’s disgust. 
“ Papa John,” as aunt Prue called him, thought that 
when a boy was two and a half years old, his hair ought 
to be cut short and he be put into boy’s clothes. 

After mamma went into the house, Jacky had a 
lively time with Pug, running races and playing hide- 
and-seek until they were both tired. 

Then he threw himself down under the peach tree, 
and Pug lay down by his side. It was very still. 
The church-bells had ceased ringing, even the birds 
were silent; and Jacky began to think 'about what 
mamma had told him that morning. 

“I believe I’ll go to church to-day,” he said to Pug 
at last. ’ “ Mamma says it’s almost like heaven in 
church, with flowers everywhere and music — and 
angels, Pug, angels, with white wings flying about,” 
he added, thoughtfully. “ Mamma did not really say 
anything about the angels, but if it’s like heaven, 
there must be angels there, of course. I ’spect my 
little brother Philip is there, Pug. He died one time, 







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HOW JACKY WENT TO CHURCH. 6 1 

and mamma says he is an angel. I believe mamma 
would be glad if I went to church and brought 
Philip horne with me this Easter day. Pd say, 
‘Philip wose from the dead, mamma, and I caught 
him and brought him to you;’ and then she would 
never cry any more when she prayed beside Philip’s 
little bed every night — and. Pug, I just believe auntie 
Prue wants you finished Jacky, who knew well 

enough what a naughty thing it was to go out of the 
yard without mamma’s permission. 

But a baby conscience is not a very strict monitor, 
and, dragging reluctant Pug after him by the cord, 
Jacky started down the street. 

He knew very well where aunt Prue’s church was, 
for mamma had often pointed it out to him when 
they were out riding. Down Linden street he went, 
and, opening the park gates, passed into the 'pretty 
place. It was very still and pretty there, with the 
tender green grass just coming up and clothing the 
earth with a velvet robe, and the leaves unfolding. 

■ Jacky was hot, dusty and tired, for Pug had ob- 
jected to going to church, and the child had car- 
ried the struggling, barking little dog in his arms 


62 


HOW JACKY WENT TO CHURCH. 


for three squares. The sweet baby face was flushed 
with the heat and fatigue, the broad-brimmed hat 
was pushed far back over the' sunny curls, and Pug 
had torn a big rent in the sailor dress in his effort 
to escape. So he climbed up on one of the green 
wooden seats, under the shadow of a lilac bush, with 
Pug in his arms, and would doubtless have fallen 
fast asleep if the choir in the church just across the 
street had not commenced to sing : 

“ Chy-ist the Lord is risen again, 

Christ hath broken every chain." 

“ We must go now, Pug.” 

So the child slipped down, and, taking Pug once 
more in his arms, walked across the park to aunt 
Prue’s church. The chapel doors in the rear of the 
church were open, and in they went. 

“The people were seated, and fixing themselves 
comfortably to listen to the Easter sermon. Fans 
and dresses rustled, the light came in through the 
great stained windows, and fell in flecks of red and 
purple and yellow — here on a new spring bonnet, 
there like a flame on the floor. 


HOW JACKY WENT TO CHURCH. 


63 


Mr. Dale had just risen from his seat to announce 
the text, when a smile, then a sound which broadened 
into a laugh, broke out all over the congrega- 
tion. 

For there in the doorway of the church, facing all 
the people, stood Jacky with Pug in his arms. No 
wonder every one laughed ! Straight into the church 
stepped the little lad, and was up on the pulpft 
stairs before any one had thought to stop him. 

Yes, there was the great cool shaded church; the 
sweet music ; flowers on the organ, the altar, and 
everywhere about the chancel, but the angels with 
their white wings — where were they.? And little 
brother Philip — was he not in this heavenly place? 

Jacky turned round on the pulpit stairs and gravely 
sought aunt Prue’s Gainsborough hat with its nod- 
ding white plumes. Yes, there she sat with adace all 
rosy red at the sight of her dusty nephew and strug- 
gling dog. 

“I’ve brought you your doggy, aunt Prue,” he said, 
in his clear, childish voice, that rang through the 
arches of the great church. “And, oh aunt Prue,” 
with a trembling lip and the big tears starting from 


64 


HOW JACKY WENT TO CHURCH. 


the blue eyes, “ there are no angels here, and I can’t 
find brother Philip for mamma ! ” 

Papa John, red and wrathful, started down the 
aisle towards his young son; but kind Mr. Dale, 
leaving his pulpit, took the child by the hand, and, 
giving him a little bunch of fragrant tea-roses 
from a vase near by, led him into the vestry. 

Jacky went back through the park in papa’s arms, 
and by the time he reached home was fast asleep, 
with the curly head nestled down 

“ Within the gracious hollow 

Which God made in every human shoulder, 

Where He meant some tired head 
For comfort should be laid.’^ 


THE CARIB CAPTAIN’S 
STORY. 


H e was stout and straight, with long black hair, 
and skin of yellow brown. I called him “ my 
Carib Captain,” because, in my many cruisings in the 
Caribbean Sea, his was the sloop that carried me 
from island to island of that great archipelago. 

He had received an education superior to that 
usually given the people of his tribe, as the priest 
who ruled his little village had hoped to make of him a 
missionary, to be of use in converting to the Roman 
faith the Indians of other islands. But his wayward 
nature refused to submit to priestly orders, and he 
broke away to a roving life among the islands of the 
West Indies and the great South American rivers. 
In listening to his tales and traditions, which covered 
a period of ten years of wandering, I whiled away 
many a long tropic day and night. 


66 


THE CARIB captain’s STORY. 


One, in particular, I remember, which he related 
while we were crossing a channel separating two 
islands, Nevis and St. Christopher. Both islands are 
of volcanic origin ; the former consists of but a single 
peak, rising from the sea like a spire thrust up 
through a cloud-wreath; the latter was one of the 
islands discovered by Columbus in 1493, and 
received its name from a fancied resemblance of its 
principal peak to the good giant. Saint Christopher, 
who, in the legend, bore the infant Jesus on his 
shoulders. It has many beautiful estates of sugar- 
cane, and the mountain forests are full of wonderful 
forms of tropical vegetation. In them also are 
found numerous troops of monkeys, which make their 
homes ir_ the woods, where they defy capture among 
the lofty trees and swinging bush-ropes, and whence 
they descend frequently to the cane-fields and cacao 
groves and commit great depredations. 

I was inquiring about the monkeys, whether they 
differed from those of other islands, and if the story 
were true that they had communication under the 
sea with the adjacent island of Nevis. My captain 
replied that they were different from monkeys further 


THE CARIB captain’s STORY. 


67 

south, and that they actually possessed a submarine 
tunnel to Nevis. He spoke so positively that I 
asked him how he knew, when he quietly answered 
that he had been through the passage himself. 

“ What ! traversed a tunnel under the sea for a 
distance of five or six miles ? ” 

“Yes, Monsieur, I think it was all of five miles, 
and I went in at St. Kitts’ side and came out at 
Nevis.” 

“The proof, captain, the proof ! ” 

“Monsieur, I will give that later; if you like the 
story — ” 

“ Well, the story ; and we will prove the truth or 
falsity of it when we hunt through the mountains.” 

“ We will.” 

Giving directions to the boy at the tiller to hold the 
vessel on her course, he sat down on the rail, while 
I stretched myself beneath the shade of the sail. 

“You see. Monsieur, the mountains of St. Kitts 
and Nevis are very high for such small islands ; 
Mount Misery is four thousand five hundred feet, 
and the peak of Nevis, three thousand six hundred 
feet. They are well covered with trees, and there 


6S 


THE CARIB CAPTAIN S STORY. 


are great ravines and gulches in them, some of them 
containing hot and mineral springs. The monkeys 
love these gloomy gulches and make them their head- 
quarters, whence they descend to the lowlands, and 
sometimes may be found along the coast. I owned 
a little cacao grove in a valley among the southern 
hills, where I had built a small hut, and had moved 
there from the coast at the opening of the fifth year. 
The trees had made excellent growth, and the stems 
and branches were well laden with great red and 
purple pods, and I looked forward to making money 
enough from this crop to pay the expenses of the 
four preceding years. But just as I had got my hut 
finished to my liking, and the crop was about ready 
to be gathered, down trooped a gang of monkeys 
from the mountains, and ruined my hopes in a single 
night. I heard them howling and barking on their 
way back, early in the morning, but did not pay much 
attention to it, nor think further of it, till I took my 
customary walk at daybreak through the grove. 
Then I was filled with consternation, for my trees 
were almost entirely stripped. 

“The sly dogs had not uttered a sound while in 


THE CARIB captain’s STORY. 69 

the grove, but could not restrain their exultant yelps 
as they went off. Not content with eating the pulp 
out of enough to satisfy their appetites, they had 
destroyed all they could by throwing it over a pre- 
cipice, and pelting one another with the- pods. 

“You may imagine I felt full of wrath; and as 
soon as I could get some plantains roasted and a cup 
of coffee, I seized my old gun and cutlass [the cut- 
lass is a great knife carried by all laborers in the 
West Indies; it is over two feet long, two inches 
broad and very strong], and started. 

“ By carefully following up the scattered fragments 
of cacao pods, I traced the culprits into a black 
opening in the southern wall of the cliffs lining a 
great ravine. It seemed open and clear of obstacles, 
but I hesitated, because I had no light and no ropes. 
To tell the truth, I was a little afraid I might sud- 
denly pop into some hole leading into the crater. . 

“ Some great gommier trees grew near by, and I 
soon scraped enough gum from them to make two large 
torches ; I then cut a long vine from the lianas hang- 
ing from the trees, fastened one end at the mouth of 
the cave, and entered, holding the other end in my 


THE CARIB captain’s STORY. 


70 

hand. When in as far as I could grope my way, I 
lighted one my torches, tied my cutlass to my belt, 
and held my gun in readiness for whatever might 
come in my way. 

“ I went on and on ; the floor seemed smooth, and 
the walls were high enough to permit me to pass 
along easily ; and when I came to the end of my 
line, I dropped it and still went on. After an hour 
or more, the tunnel not coming to an end, I began 
to think that this might really be the passage through 
to Nevis. 

“ The stillness and darkness were oppressive, but 
I determined to go on so long as my torches 
lasted and the passage grew no worse. I had given 
up the hope of finding the monkeys, now that I 
believed this their retreat to the other island. They 
were probably over there long ago, safe in the forests. 

“.Suddenly I was alarmed by something twitching 
at my cap, which, before I had recovered from my 
fright, was seized by some invisible being and lifted 
from my head. 

“ Swinging my torch around quickly, I caught sight 
of a pair of glittering eyes, and made out a dusky 


THE CARIB captain’s STORY. ^1 

form retreating into a hole in the wall over my head. 
Turning back, I saw a host of black forms on all 
fours watching my motions. Realizing the danger 
of advancing further, I turned directly about and 
started to go back. Instantly that mass of black 
beings set up such a howling that I nearly dropped 
my torch, and my knees shook so I could hardly 
stand. With cries which seemed of mingled rage 
and terror, those dusky creatures would not move a 
foot ; those behind crowded down upon those in 
front till I really could see nothing but a moving 
mass of monkeys. 

“ What to do I knew not ; should I fire at the fore- 
most monkeys, I could kill but a few, and the others 
would become infuriated and rush upon me. I soon 
concluded to push on, hoping to find the end of the 
passage. Every step I took was followed ; the whole 
throng stopped when I stopped, crept silently along 
behind me when I ventured on, and became possessed 
by a great terror. I desired to run, but the floor of 
the tunnel was so uneven that I dared not, and black 
fissures extending downward, increased in number as 


I went on. 


72 


THE CARIB captain’s STORY. 


“ My only hope was that I might reach the end of 
the tunnel, and I had great anxiety on account of 
my torches. I also felt need of food. I instinctively 
swung my hand around, and felt in my canvas bag 
for the yams and plantains I had placed there in the 
morning. They were gone. 

“ The monkeys had stolen them ! 

“ As I stood there, I felt my hand grasped by a cold 
paw, and looking down, I saw a very large monkey, 
wearing my cap on his head, and complacently 
munching one of my plantains. Indignation so 
overcame me that I gave Mr. Monkey a cuff with my 
gun-barrel that knocked him off among the others. 
Instantly there ensued a tempest of bowlings, and 
I thought my end had surely come. They gathered 
about their wounded leader, and seemed to be offer- 
ing him assistance. I could not tell what to expect, 
but was prepared for anything except what followed ; 
for, imagine my surprise when the monkey gathered 
himself up, toddled towards me, and again seized my 
hand, as though to assure me that he bore me no 
malice. We went on, the crowd following quietly in 
the rear. Whenever I attempted to turn about, the 


THE CARIB captain’s STORY. 


73 


monkeys would chatter and show their teeth, and 
the one holding my hand pull gently in the opposite 
direction. 

“ Presently the roaring of the sea, which of late 
I had heard faintly (having been all the time descend, 
ing), grew louder, arid we began to ascend. After a 
good distance, the tunnel made a dip again ; and I 
distinctly heard the breaking of waves against rocks 
not far away. The descent w^as now very steep, and 
we were finally stopped by water. Though it must 
have been deep down from the surface, there was yet 
a tint to the water, indicating that light was shining 
thfough it from above. 

“ Here it seemed as though further retreat were 
stopped, and I must either fight my way away from 
those monkeys or drown. Feeling a tugging at my 
hand, I looked down and saw my special monkey 
making gestures. 

“ A narrow ledge jutted from the face of the tunnel, 
along which my four-footed campanions began to 
walk. Seeing no alternative, I followed, though I 
had difficulty in keeping my hold, encumbered as I 
was with gun and torch. We soon reached a crevice 


74 


THE CARIB captain’s STORY. 


through which I squeezed, to find myself in a 
large chamber, lighted by cracks through the rock 
forming its roof. 

“ After I had entered, my attendants came in pell- 
mell and squatted around at a respectful distance, 
while my friend who had stolen my cap seemed to 
invite me to make myself at home. There was no 
apparent escape. Though I was convinced I had 
emerged from beneath the sea, there was no aperture 
large enough to crawl out. I was tired and hungry, 
and began to search in my haversack for some crumbs 
and eat them ; perceiving which, one of the monkeys 
approached and offered a pod of my own cacao. 

“ His example seemed contagious ; for one after 
another came up until I was well supplied with cacao, 
which, though not desirable food, would allay hunger 
and thirst awhile. 

“ Feeling I could safely do so, I yielded to fatigue 
and fell asleep, though it could qot have been later 
than noon. When I awoke I could see nothing but 
a pair of eyes shining out of the darkness near me. 
They belonged to the large monkey, who had kept 
watch over me while I slept, and who now came 


THE CARIB captain’s STORY. 


75 


forward and laid his hand caressingly upon my leg. 
Instead of fearing him, as at first, I welcomed him. 
Judging from the entire absence of eyes which would 
otherwise have gleamed like stars in the dark, I con- 
cluded the others had gone out hunting; a conclusion 
verified the next morning, when I awoke from another 
nap and found them trouping into my prison. They 
brought me more cacao and some plantains and 
bananas which the boldest of them laid near me with 
a mixture of shyness and bravado most amusing. 

“ The second day passed drearily, and I was revolv- 
ing in my mind how I might escape. To make an 
exit through the crevices above was impossible ; there 
only remained that passage that ended so abruptly in* 
the sea. But each time I made a move in that 
direction my guide would growl and the monkeys 
chatter and show their teeth. I almost despaired; 
thirst was consuming me ; hunger had been but par- 
tially allayed by the raw plantains and bananas. 

“ Near the close of the second day, my jailor 
seemed to invite me to follow him to the further end 
of the cavern. Taking up_jBX cutlass I groped my 
way after him to the other side of the chamber, where. 


76 THE CARIB captain’s STORY. 

hidden by the gloom, I found an aperture large 
enough to admit my body. Crawling along a low 
and narrow passage for about twenty feet, we came 
out into a very large cavern, where, reclining upon the 
floor, I saw a great number of monkeys — their dark 
forms were everywhere. They manifested no aston- 
ishment at my presence, and, beyond a low murmur 
that went around the room at our approach, made no 
noise. My guide seemed to take great pride in this 
assemblage of monkeys, and finally it dawned upon 
me that this was the nursery, where the mothers and 
grandmothers took care of the younger ones until it 
was safe to allow them to run in the forest. 

“But I was parched with thirst, and would gladly 
have missed the nursery for one drink of pure water. 
Seemingly divining my desire, my guide arose, 
scampered to the opposite side of the chamber, and 
disappeared around an angle of the wall wdiich cur- 
tained another passage-way. Immediately upon 
turning this angle I heard the unmistakable roar of 
water falling from a height. I darted joyfully onward. 
I could see the course of the torrent by the flashes of 
foam, but other than this all was midnight blackness. 


THE CARIB captain’s STORY. 


77 


“But there was no visible opening, for the rock 
dipped down below the sea level ; but I felt from the 
light that filtered up through the water that it was 
possible for me to dive beneath the wall and come up 
outside. 

“Yes, the avenue of escape lay before me. I 
arose to avail myself of it ; but, as I tightened my 
belt around me, preparatory to making the plunge, I 
heard a noise of many cries sounding through a hole 
in the rock above, and knew the monkeys were on 
my trail by a less expeditious but safer route than 
the one I had chosen. 

“ A moment later, and I was beneath the waves ; 
another, and the sun was streaming down upon me 
through trees overhanging a rocky shore. 

“ Do yod see that coral ledge jutting into the 
channel ? Well, that was the point where I landed 
on Nevis shore, just beneath that cocoa palm.” 

Here my Carib Captain abruptly ended his narra- 
tive, for the sloop had run under the lee of an island 
with a great mountain in its centre ; the sails were 
flapping, and he ran aft to lay hold of the tiller. 


THE CARIB captain’s STORY. 


78 


“ But what I took for a rock was a silently moving 
body of water. In a second of time I was hurried 
down the rapid, enveloped in darkness ; another, and 
I was jammed into a tunnel through which the water 
forced its way. 

“ For a moment I hung there submerged ; then 
the force of the volume of water above me dashed 
me onward through the tunnel, blinded, strangled, 
almost senseless, until stranded, after a heavy fall, 
in shallow water. There I lay, with a confused sense 
of my condition, unable to move; and it was perhaps 
two hours before I could sit erect. Then I found I 
had been thrown into another cavern, resembling a 
chamber of crystal; but the light that reached me 
came through the water from the outside. The stream, 
after falling through the cliffs above, here spread over 
a smooth level bed, so broad that the water had but 
little depth. As reason returned to me, I felt that 
now I must and could escape. I have said that this 
cavern was lighted from the outside, from the sea. 
This stream, that came in from the heights of the mount- 
ains, had not always pursued a subterranean course; 
it could not plunge into the sea beneath its surface. 


DID ETHEL SEE THE 
QUEEN? 


T^THEL will always insist, not only that she saw 
' the queen, but that the queen spoke to her. 
Her father smiles whenever she tells the story, and 
her brother Jack, who is three years older than Ethel 
and of course a great deal wiser, openly laughs at the 
idea. “ As if Queen Victoria would speak to our 
Ethel ! ” he is accustomed to remark, “ even if 
Ethel did see her, which is quite unlikely.” But Ethel, 
nevertheless, holds stoutly to her belief, and continues 
to tell the story to any one who wants to hear it and 
who is not too openly a sceptic. 

They were all in England, as it happened, last sum- 
mer, and for one of their excursions went to Windsor 
Castle. The queen, they were told, was away, so 


So 


DID ETHEL SEE THE QUEEN? 


that they might go through the state apartments, 
which one may not do when her majesty is at home. 
The bookseller, however, who furnished them with 
tickets was not sure but that she might come back 
that afternoon ; so they went directly to the door of 
admission, lest by leaving it till after they had seen 
the other sights they might be barred out. The 
attendant, who did not seem to know anything about 
the queen’s expected return, received them politely, 
and leading the way up-stairs proceeded to show them 
through the long series of elegant rooms. It was in 
one of the largest and stateliest of them that Ethel 
found herself separated from her father and mother 
and Jack. She had been looking at a picture of the 
family of George III., and did not notice out of which 
door the party had gone. In her uncertainty, she 
chose the one opposite to that which they had taken, 
and leading, though she did not know it, in the direc- 
tion of the queen’s private apartments. She had not 
gone far before she felt sure that she was wrong ; but 
Ethel was a brave little girl, and pushed on, 
thinking that in some of the great rooms or wide 
corridors through which she passed she must find 


DID ETHEL SEE THE QUEEN ? Si 

some one who would show her the way out. 

Finally, in one of the rooms she heard voices 
through a half-open door. Could it be her own party, 
she wondered ; or was it some of the attendants ? At 
any rate, she would find out. Ethel pushed open the 
door, closing it carefully behind her, as she had been 
taught to do, and stood in the room. It was a 
smaller apartment than any she had been in, and fur- 
nished, she thought, more like their own parlor in 
New York. In it were two ladies, one young and 
quite pretty, standing near the table in the middle of 
the room ; the other, seated by the window that 
looked out towards Windsor forest, an older person 
with a kindly, motherly face. She must be somebody 
of consequence, the little girl thought, because she 
w'ore such beautiful diamond ear-rings and pin. But 
then, Ethel was quite accustomed to diamond ear- 
rings, and did not have any fears of the lady on that 
account. Indeed, she walked over to where the 
lady was seated, and bowed in the most polite 
way. 

“ If you please,” she said, “ I’m lost.” 

Both the ladies surveyed her with a surprised look. 


82 


DID ETHEL SEE THE QUEEN? 


and the younger, walking to the side of the room, 
laid her hand on the bell-pull. 

“ So you are lost, are you ? ” said the elder lady^ 
motioning at the same time to the other not to ring 
the bell. 

Ethel nodded cordially. 

“ Yes,” she said ; “ I don’t know how it happened, 
but we were all in one of the rooms, and then I looked 
around, and I was all alone.” 

The lady frowned. 

“ Visitors to-day ! ” she exclaimed. 

“ Oh, it’s all right,” Ethel hastened to say ; “ the 
queen isn’t here, you know. She may be this after- 
noon, though. I wish 1 could see the queen,” she 
added meditatively. 

The frown departed from the lady’s face, and left 
in its place a bright, sweet smile. The younger per- 
son had already sat down, and was listening atten- 
tively to the conversation. 

“ Well, my dear,” said the former, “ what would you 
do if you should see the queen ? ” 

Ethel was a romantic little girl, and her cheeks 
flushed with excitement. 


DID ETHEL SEE THE QUEEN ? 


83 


“Oh,” she said, “I would tell her how perfectly 
lovely it was, when she was a little girl, and did not 
know she was going to be queen, and met her nice 

young cousin, you know, and married him Do 

you know the queen ? ” she asked impulsively, break- 
ing off her sentence. 

The lady’s eyes were full of tears, and leaning 
forward she drew the little girl to her side and kissed 
her. 

“ My daughter knows the queen,” she said ; “ but 
how does it happen that you know so much about her? 
You are not a little English girl, are you ? ” 

Ethel drew herself up quite proudly, as she always 
did whenever the subject of nationality was mentioned. 

“ Oh my, no ! ” she exclaimed. “ I’m a little 
American girl. We live in New York when I’m at 
home, and I read Mrs. Oliphant’s story, the one that 
was in Harper’s, you know. I wonder if the queen 
read that ? ” she added inquiringly, turning to the 
stately young lady, of whom, to tell the truth, Ethel 
was still a little afraid. 

But the young lady laughed. 

“ Why, I read it to her myself ! ” she said. 


84 did ETHEL SEE THE QUEEN ? 

Ethel’s face lighted up with eager interest. 

“ Did you really ? ” she asked. “ How nice it 
must be for you to know the queen ! Do you have to 
wait on her like Miss Burney did?” 

“Well, no,” smilingly; “not altogether.” 

Ethel’s face flushed. 

“ Why, of course not ! ” she exclaimed : “ Queen 
Victoria is too good to make anybody wait on her as 
that horrid old queen made poor Miss Burney. 
Wasn’t it shocking?” she asked sympathetically. 

“ Very ! ” assented the young lady. 

“ I wish I could see the queen,” Ethel remarked 
again, with an emphasis on the wish. 

“ I will tell you how you may see her,” observed 
the young lady quietly. 

Ethel danced up and down. “ Oh, that would be 
just too lovely for anything ! ” she said ; “ I’d walk 
from here to London to see her.” 

“Oh, you needn’t do that ! All you will have to do 
is to go down to the Quadrangle about five o’clock, 
and stand near the statue of Charles II., and you will 
see the queen when she goes out to take her drive.” 

Ethel’s face fell. 


BID ETHEL SEE THE QUEEN ? 85 

“Oh!” she said, “the queen isn’t here to-day, and 
I shall not be here to‘inorro\v.” 

“ But the queen may have come back by this after- 
noon,” said the young lady. 

“ Do you really think she will ? ” asked Ethel ex- 
citedly ; “ does your mamma think she will ? ” turn- 
ing again to the elderly lady. 

“Well,” said the latter smilingly, “ I think myself 
she will.” 

“ Oh,” said Ethel, “ if papa and mamma will only 
stay ! But I forgot all about them,” she added ; “ and 
mamma will be dreadfully worried about me. Would 
you mind telling me, please, how I may get out ? If 
you will only tell me, I can find the way myself.” 

The elder lady motioned with her eyes towards 
the bell-cord, which the daughter pulled. In a 
minute another lady entered the room, and having 
bowed respectfully, stood off at a little distance. 

“ This lady will show you the way,” said Ethel’s 
friend, “ and you may kiss me before you go. Lady 
Jane,” addressing the attendant, “ take this little girl 
out through the state apartments, and see that no one 
else comes in that way.” 


86 


DID ETHEL SEE THE QUEEN ? 


Ethel looked up distressfully, and her eyes filled 
with tears. • 

“Oh, did I do wrong?” she cried. “I did not 
mean to be rude; I thought it was all free alike — one 
room looked just like another.” 

The lady kissed the flushed cheeks. 

“ My dear,” she said tenderly, “ you must not 
blame yourself at all. I am very glad to have seen 
you. Only I do not want other persons coming in 
whom I should not be so glad to see. Now you may 
kiss my daughter, and Lady Jane will show you the 
way back.” 

Ethel did as she was bidden, and was quite sur- 
prised with the warmth of the young lady’s embrace. 

“ Good-by ! ” she said meekly as she stood near 
the door, which Lady Jane had already opened. 

Both ladies smiled cordially. 

“Good-by, dear,” they said. 

And then the door was shut, and Ethel found her- 
self with her guide on her way back through the big, 
lonesome state apartments. The lady, though gra- 
cious and kindly, had little to say, and Ethel did not 
feel nearly as much at home with her as with the two 


DID ETHEL SEE THE QUEEN? 


87 


whom she had left, and who were evidently in some 
way her superiors. It was not long before they came 
to the guard-room, and here to her great joy Ethel 



discovered her father and mother and Jack, who had 
been waiting there on the assurance of the guard that 
she would certainly re-appear. 

“ O mamma ! ” Ethel cried excitedly, “ I’ve had 


88 


DID ETHEL SEE THE QUEEN? 


such a perfectly lovely time ; and Lady Jane was 
kind enough to show me the way back.” 

Mrs. Revere bowed. 

“ We are very much indebted to you,” she said, ad- 
dressing Ethel’s guide. 

“ Indeed it was a pleasure to me,” said the lady, 
smiling ; “ I hope you have not been alarmed for the 
little girl. There was no need, she was in good 
hands.” 

One may be sure of that,” remarked Mr. Revere 
politely, “ in the palace of the Queen of England.” 

The lady bowed, and, with one or two more court- 
eous words, Mr. and Mrs. Revere and the children 
left the apartment and made their way again into the 
Quadrangle. 

“ O mamma ! ” exclaimed Ethel again, when they 
had got into the open air and out of hearing, “ I saw 
two of the most lovely ladies, and one of them told 
me that the queen would be home this afternoon, and 
that if we stood over there by the statue we would 
be sure to see her when she went out to take her ride. 
Mightn’t we wait, papa, and go back to London by a 
late train ? ” 


DID ETHEL SEE THE QUEEN ? 


89 


Mr. Revere looked a little uncertain. He had 
planned to return by the four-o’clock train, so as to 
get in London for dinner. But he was always will- 
ing to gratify his children where it could be reason- 
ably done, and so, after deliberating a moment, wisely 
gave way. 

“ Well,” he said, “ I suppose we might as well wait 
even if we do not see her. It will be a pleasant 
afternoon, and we can take a fly and drive through 
Eton to Stoke Pogis, where Gray wrote the ‘ Elegy, * 
you know.” 

And so they did, first having visited the remaining 
sights of lilie castls, and taken a very poor lunch at 
a very high price at one of the inns of the towrn. It 
was nearly five o’clock when the shabby old fly, in 
which they had made their excursion, drew up before 
the castle gate through which they entered again into 
the Quadrangle, and t :ok up their place near the statue. 

They did not have long to wait. Promptly on the 
hour, Ethel’s quick ears caught the sound of horses’ 
hoofs. Id another moment, through the archway on 
the right of the Quadrangle darted a beautiful carriage 
drawn by two milk-white horses, and driven by an 


90 


DID ETHEL SEE THE QUEEN ? 


imposing coachman in livery, by whose side was 
seated a tall, ungainly looking man with a Scotch cap. 

“That is Brown,” said Ethel’s father: “John 
Brown, who used to be Prince Albert’s body-servant ; 
now he attends the queen.” 

The carriage drew up before the door at the further 
right-hand corner of the Quadrangle, above which 
were two large bay windows opening, as the guard 
on top of the tower had told them that morning, into 
the queen’s private apartments. By this time, others 
had entered the Quadrangle, so that besides Mr. Re- 
vere’s party there was quite a crowd. Very soon 
their curiosity was gratified by the sight of some one 
emerging from the castle door, who opened the door 
of the carriage and stood by its side. 

It was so far off that they could not see either the 
figures or faces very distinctly, but Ethel’s father told 
her that the queen, if she were there at all, would be 
the first to enter the carriage ; so that when another 
person came out the door and was seen getting in the 
barouche, there was no doubt left in Ethel’s mind, or 
for that matter in the minds of anybody else there, 
that it was the queen. Then another lady’s figure 


DID ETHEL SEE THE QUEEN? 9I 

was seen to enter and seat herself by the queen’s side. 
Then the carriage door was shut; the man whom Mr. 
Revere had taken to be Brown mounted the box; the 
driver whipped up the horses, and down the hard road 
towards the archway by which it had entered came 
the royal equipage. As it drew near, Ethel strained 
her eyes. As it turned to go out of the gate, though 
it was still a couple of hundred feet away, she gave 
a little cry of surprised recognition. 

“Why, mamma!” she exclaimed, “it is the very 
lady whom I saw in the room to-day, and the one 
sitting by her side is the daughter.” 

One or two persons who were standing near and 
overheard the remark, looked curiously down at 
Ethel’s eager face. The carriage had now passed out 
of sight, and Mrs. Revere was not anxious that her 
little girl should seem to be claiming acquaintance 
with royalty. 

“ Never mind, my dear,” she said ; “ you can tell 
me about it later.” 

“ Yes,” said Mr. Revere, “ the show is over, and 
we will have to hurry to catch our train. You can 
tell us about it in the cars, Ethel, only I don’t 


93 


DID ETHEL SEE THE QUEEN? 


imagine you could recognize anybody so far off.” 

And that always remained Mr. Revere’s opinion. 
Neither he nor Jack could ever be brought to believe 
that the little girl had actually seen the queen. But 
Mrs. Revere, I am glad to say, clings as firmly to the 
story as Ethel herself ; and so long as her mother be- 
lieves it, Ethel is satisfied. 

Ethel’s principal anxiety is lest she should have 
been rude. 

“ Mamma,” she said one night when Mrs. Revere 
was putting her to bed, “ what relation was the old 
queen whom Miss Burney waited on to Queen Vic- 
toria ? ” 

“Why, her grandmother, I believe,” said Ethel’s 
mother. 

Ethel drew a long breath. 

“ And just to think, mamma,” she said, “ I spoke 
of her as a horrid old thing. What do you suppose 
the queen must have thought ? ” 


THE ONE-MAN-BAND. 


TT 7HOOP! hurrah! a band I a band!” shouted 
Walter Gay as he dashed down the narrow 
passage known as Clam Shell Alley, to the open space 
where stood the little flag railway station. Troops 
of boys and girls were scurrying along through the 
fields and byways coming from all directions — from 
Dwight Row and the tenement houses by the rope- 
walk, and from the more aristocratic quarter of Seaside 
known as Broadway, all converging towards the spot 
whence proceeded the ravishing strains of martial 
music. 

Now a band was not a permanent institution at 
Seaside. Only once a year at the annual Fourth-of- 
July parade, were the children sure of hearing one. 
There was an occasional delightful surprise of the 
kind when an excursion steamer came down to Bay- 


94 


THE ONE-MAN-BAND. 


mont five miles below, and the band played as it 
sailed by Seaside, and once within Walter’s recollec- 
tion there had been a circus parade through the little 
hamlet, when the circus band played from their lofty 
eminence in that magnificent gilt chariot we all know 
so well ; but such a pleasure was rare and not to be 
repeated often in a lifetime, and Walter did not ven- 
ture to hope that he should ever witness such glories 
again, certainly not till he was old enough to seek 
his fortune beyond the encircling hills of Seaside, in 
that unknown world whence the circus had come 
and into which- it had vanished. 

As he drew near the station he stopped for a 
moment bewildered. He heard the familiar music of 
Hail^ Colufnbia, with an accompaniment of drums and 
cymbals, but no band was to be seen ; no uniformed 
players with instruments of flashing brass; in fact 
from where he stood he could see only a crowd. 

By a judicious use of his elbows and a wise adapt- 
ation of means to an end, he made his way quickly 
through the crowd, and this is what he saw. 

He saw a brown, black-eyed, mustachioed man, 


THE ON E-MAN- BAND. 


95 


wearing upon his head a triple brass cap resembling 
somewhat a Chinese pagoda, each section fringed 
with tiny brass bells. 

A big drum rested upon his back, and this was sur- 
mounted by a smaller drum, while cymbals and a 
triangle were fastened to the drums. All these were 
connected by some mysterious arrangement of straps, 
so that by a movement of his left foot the player 
could cause the drums to beat, the cymbals to clash, 
the triangle to ring in unison with the accordion 
which he played, and at the same time by a shake of 
his head he set all the sweet bells jingling in perfect 
time and tune. 

Wonderful combination ! a whole band comprised 
in one man ! and if in one man why not in one boy ? 
thought Walter ; and he knelt and examined the straps 
to see if he could solve the mystery of their arrange- 
ment. Vain attempt ! while he was yet looking, 
the music ceased, another mustachioed man passed 
around a very dirty cap, the school-bell rang, and the 
crowd dispersed. 

The wonderful band has never since been seen at 


96 


THE ONE-MAN-BAND. 


Seaside ; it disappeared as swiftly and mysteriously 
as it came, like Longfellow’s Arabs, and Walter would 
be tempted to think sometimes that it was all a 
dream and it never had been there, if his cousin 
Horace Greeley Spelman, who is a Boston reporter, 
had not told him that he had seen the very same 
man several times in Dock Square, and at the 
West End. 


WHAT TIME IS IT? 

What time is it ? 

Time to be earnest, 

Laying up treasure; 

Time to be thoughtful, 

Choosing true pleasure; 

Loving stern justice — of truth being fond; 
Making your word just as good as your bond. 

Time to be happy, 

Doing your best — 

Time to be trustful, 

Leaving the rest, 

Knowing, in whatever country or clime. 

Ne’er can we call back one minute of time. 


KENTON’S LEAGUE WITH 
THE SUN. 


S IMON KENTON was one of the most noted of 
the early heroes of Kentucky, a man of much 
intelligence, wonderful courage and almost matchless 
muscular capacity. He died near Eellefontaine, 
Ohio, in 1836, at the advanced age of eighty-one 
years. 

The annals of the borders abound in accounts of 
his thrilling adventures; but one incident in his life 
I have never seen in print, and therefore will repeat 
it as it has been told to me by old hunters and In- 
dian-fighters, who knew him personally and heard it 
from his own lips. In my telling, however, it will 
lack much of Kenton’s graphic way of putting 
things. 

He was a great smoker, the most important sup- 


KENTON’S LEAGUE WITH THE SUN. 


plies, next to his weapons, being his pipe, pouch and 
tobacco. Food and clothing he could capture with 
his gun, but not so his tobacco ; and hence his zeal 
to lay in a stock of his luxury before setting out on 
any expedition. But fire to light his pipe was not so 
readily obtainable, it being no little trouble to ignite 
tobacco by flint and steel. It will be remembered 
that friction matches were not in common use until 
years after Kenton’s day. 

At one time when a prisoner in the hands of the 
British at Detroit, he was particularly admired by 
English officers on account of his great strength and 
courage, and the many remarkable exploits’ for which 
he was famous ; and one of these officers, observing 
his fondness for smoking and the difficulty in lighting 
a pipe, presented Kenton with a powerful pocket 
burning-glass or lens, by which he could easily focus 
the rays of the sun on the tobacco and set it on 
fire. 

This thing worked charmingl}'-, and for many years, 
wherever he went, held its place in the pouch with his 
pipe and tobacco. 

It is an incident in which the sun-glass acted a 


Kenton’s league with the sun. 


99 


significant part, which I have resolved to relate. 

A summer or two after he became possessor of the 
glass, he was again taken captive by a party of nine 
Indians, who, recognizing him at once, resolved to 
torture him to death immediately, so as to rid them- 
selves of so formidable an enemy before he should 
have time or chance to escape. 

A stake was driven into the ground, and a quantity 
of dry leaves and wood piled about it, and then the 
chief spoke in broken English : 

“White chief hungry; eat fire, he feel better!” 

Kenton replied by asking the privilege of smoking 
his pipe before burning. Now the Indians of certain 
tribes were always singularly generous in response to ' 
such requests, especially as toward pipe and tobacco 
they entertained a sort of religious deference. Of 
these they never robbed prisoners nor despoiled the 
bodies of the slain ; and among the few sacred objects 
■buried with the dead, pipes were always included. It 
was on account of this superstitious sanctity that the 
pipe bore such an important part in the ceremonies of 
a council, and was always smoked as a bond of 
strength between tribes entering into treaty together. 


lOO 


Kenton’s league with the sun. 


They never denied a captive’s request for a smoke, and 
therefore Kenton was immediately gratified by a grunt 
of assent. 

After securing his feet more firmly with leathern 
thongs — for they knew too well his daring and prowess 
to give him any advantage — they unbound his hands 
that he might fill and light his pipe and enjoy his 
last earthly smoke. Deliberately he proceeded to 
crumble up the tobacco and pack it into the pipe- 
bowl. This done, he placed the long wooden 
stem in his mouth, and seemed ready for flint, steel 
and tinder w'ith which to light the luxury. With 
another grunt a red man passed him the custom- 
ary implements; but, to his great surprise, Kenton 
refused them. 

Then, with a dramatic gesture, he extended his 
right hand toward the sun in mid-heaven, it being 
about noon, and holding it thus with the burning-glass 
clasped between the thumb and fore-finger, he dex- 
trously brought it to a focus on the contents of his 
pipe, which in this way was quickly ignited, and in a 
moment he was puffing clouds of smoke from his 
lips. 


KENTON S LEAGUE WITH THE SUN. 


lOl 


This was beyond the wits of the savages. The 
lens being of glass and transparent, they had not ob- 
served it, and evidently believed that he had lighted 
his pipe by simply letting the sunlight pass through 
the circle formed by his thumb and finger. All un- 
concerned he puffed away, while they gathered in an 
excited group a few yards distant and discussed the 
wonder in grunts and mutterings. 

In a few minutes he had exhausted the contents of 
the pipe-bowl and proceeded to refill it. 

At this the red men became silent, and watched 
him as if he were a supernatural being. 

While crumbling the tobacco the glass lay unseen 
at his side, and when he was ready to light up again, 
with another still more dramatic gesture, he seized the 
lens and held it toward the sun, and, with three or 
four cries of mysterious and startling import to the 
Indians, began whiffing the bluish smoke as coolly 
as before. 

By this time the superstition of the savages was in 
full operation, and they were ripe for almost any 
display of Kenton's supposed supernatural power.. 
Probably no people on the whole globe were ever 



WITH A STRANGE CRY, HE SHIFTED THE LENS TO HIS LEFT H*AND 



Kenton’s league with the sun. 103 

more sensitive to such influences than the native 
tribes of North America. What they could not com- 
prehend they dreaded with craven fear, especially 
if it emanated from ‘the sun or clouds. Seeing his 
advantage, Kenton stretched forth his hand again, 
holding the glass so as to kindle the leaves near him. 
Then with a strange, wild cry, he swung his arms 
above his head, adroitly shifted the lens to his left 
hand, and then quickly started a smudge in another 
place. 

Next, struggling to his feet, tied though they were, 
he gave an almost superhuman leap — jumping being 
Kenton’s special forte — and brought himself to the 
heap of fagots that had been gathered for his par- 
ticular entertainment, and seating himself near them, 
went through a pantomime more weird than before, 
whereupon a flame blazed up around the stake, as 
if the victim were already fastened to it, and ready 
for torture. 

His next performance was to beckon to the chief 
to come and unbind his ankles. The mystified 
Indian hesitated, but finally ventured cautiously for- 
ward, as if not daring to disobey such a man, and 


04 


Kenton’s league with the sun. 


began with nervous fingers to fumble at the deer- 
skin thong. 

While thus engaged, Kenton lifted one hand, 
and instantly a lurid, blistering point of fire 
fell on the red man’s wrist. With an “ Ugh ! ” he 
jerked his hand away, but only to feel the burning 
focus on his head. 

This was too much for even an Indian’s nerves; 
and with a cry of terror the old chief sprang away 
and ran to the nearest tree, behind which he took 
shelter. The rest of the savages imitated their 
leader, leaping behind adjacent trees; and while with 
wondering eyes they stared at Kenton, he proceeded 
leisurely to unbind his own ankles. 

This done, he waved his arms towards the sun as 
if giving thanks or invoking further aid ; and then 
went to a powder-horn, dropped by one of the 
Indians, and withdrawing the stopple, placed it as 
he wanted it, fixed his sun-glass so that the focus 
would enter the horn, and stepping toward the 
Indians, gesticulated fiercely at them. Instantly 
there was a vivid flash and a roar, the powder- 
horn disappeared, and the frightened savages fled as if 


Kenton’s league with the sun. 105 

the “ Great Spirit ” had suddenly come to destroy them. 

At this, Kenton considered himself master of the 
field, and, in less time than it takes to tell it, flung 
upon the fire whatever the Indians had left behind 
them, seized his own property that they had taken 
from him, gun and garments, and made haste from 
the scene. 

A few years later, when peace had been restored 
between Americans and English, and the Indians 
were on pacific terms with the “ Hunters of Ken- 
tucky,” Kenton had the pleasure of meeting at a 
“ pow-wow ” with some of the warriors wEo had 
composed the party so signally w’orsted by a sum 
glass. They knew him at once, and showed an 
almost ungovernable fear as he came forward to 
shake hands. During the “pow-w^ow” he often 
detected them gazing at him w^ith furtive glances, 
and as he still had the lens, he mischievously seized the 
first opportunity to call down fire from the sun to light 
his pipe again, accompanying it with strange gestures. 

Afterward he learned that they believed him in 
league with the “Great Spirit,” and able, if he 
wishod, to summon the sun to battle for him. 


A NANTUCKET STORY. 


C OUSIN ELIZABETH DICK was her name — 
not Miss Dick, not Elizabeth Dick, not Miss 
Elizabeth Dick. Her autograph, if solicited to-day, 
would in all probability be given, ‘‘C. Elizabeth 
Dick ; ” her silver, if she had ever possessed it, would 
•not be recognized as family plate except bearing the 
initials, “C. E. D.^’ 

Cousin Elizabeth Dick was poor and old, yet she 
totally ignored poverty, and appeared twenty years 
her own junior. She occupied the front room of a 
“Friends’ Preparative Meeting Boarding-house.” It 
was furnished to her and for her by this religious 
society of which she was a member. She considered 
it a birthright perquisite, therefore felt under no 
obligation to any one. In this room she kept a 
school, in her front window a shop. 


A NANTUCKET STORY. 


107 

Of a more learned woman the Island of Nantucket 
could not boast. The style of her conversation, not 
to use the unpleasant term “ stilted,” was quite 
“lofty.” No one objected to her long words. She 
breathed in polysyllables. From “A B A” to “Z 
E U and Appendix ” of the Encyclopaedia she could 
quote without a pause, if a listener could be found. 

Her shop, wholly in the front window, seemed 
to be invariable as a quantity. It ran as follows : 
First, slate pencils ; these, being few in number, met 
in the interior base of a glass tumbler, and flared at 
the brim. This vessel was labelled very neatly and 
distinctly, “ Ciphering Implements, one cent apiece ; 
bunktowns ^ taken.” Next, suspended from the 
middle of the window, hung a thin muslin bag con- 
taining yellow lumps marked “The Busy Bee.” A 
third collection was of material for polishing brass ; 
the jar holding this was distinguished by the words, 
“ Putrefied Petrifaction.” No one wondered at the 
labels, few read them ; all knew beeswax and rotten 
stone by sight. Nor did Cousin Elizabeth Dick pre- 
tend to misunderstand her customers if, in their 
simplicity, they inquired for these articles by the 


io8 


A NANTUCKET STORY. 


common name of slate-pencils and the like. She 
respected the lowly, which class comprised all those 
persons who had not perused thoroughly Johnson’s 
Dictionary and Murray’s Grammar. To one of these 
humble individuals, from whom she received many 
of the necessaries of life, she remarked, “ The charity 
that I dispense is worthier than thine, for I give the 
choicest mental food to rich and poor alike, irre- 
spective of person.” 

Cousin Elizabeth Dick’s school did not interfere 
with her shop ; the two never clashed. Her pupils 
were of both sexes, of all ages, of all sizes ; each 
paying seventeen cents a week in summer and twenty 
cents a week in winter. The difference in price 
was supposed to pay the bill for fuel, which was not, 
as might at first appear, very difficult of performance, 
the wood being donated by her patrons. 

Cousin Elizabeth Dick was a safe teacher: she held 
her pupils well in check. The tallest scholar was 
Gilbert Starbuck, the object of my story. Gilbert 
had a habit of looking down upon us young children 
in a way I despise, his contempt being much 
enhanced by the fact that he spelled from the same 


A NANTUCKET STORY. IO9 

book, the same page, the same column and in the 
same class. 

“ Surfeit ” was the trouble. “ Ph-th-is-ic ” was 
accomplished by Jared Coleman ; “ Phleg-mat-ic ” by 
one of the girls ; which brought “ Sur-feit ” to Gilbert. 
He thought, as Mary Ann had been absent a week, 
that she would not be there that day, and the 
second word would certainly be his ; so he 
crammed upon “ Phleg-mat-ic,” and lo ! a new one 
and a strange one came to him. Not one person in a 
thousand can spell “ Sur-feit ” aright by intuition, so 
Gilbert failed. Cousin Elizabeth Dick pronounced 
the same “ an ignominious, inglorious failure.” 

The lad was to be punished ; he was to sit by the 
most minute girl in school. Consequently, he took 
his seat, as directed, next to me. If there was any 
little girl whom the boy considered infinitely beneath 
him, it was the writer of this paper. In speaking oj 
me or to me (he seldom committed himself in either 
direction), his appellation, though my father was com- 
mittee-man, was invariably, “ Carrot-locks.” 

As Gilbert sat down, he turned his back to me. 
He was all right ; any boy on the island would have 


I TO 


A NANTUCKET STORY. 


behaved the same to any girl under similar circum'- 

( 

stances. 

After a few moments I touched his shoulder. 
When he turned around, which he would not have 
done on second thought, he beheld me with my right 
eye shut tight and my left one wildly glaring at 
him. 

“ What you looking at ^ ” said he. 

“ You ! ” I replied. 

4f 

“ Look away ! ” 

“ Can't!” 

“ Why not ? ” 

Not daring to tell a falsehood, I said, “Well, I 
don’t think, and don’t know why anybody else should, 
that I ever in this world got a pin into my eye ; but 
if it is true, that is the reason ! Every forenoon, 
when the clock strikes ten, one eye will close and 
the other will stare.” 

He was to sit by me one week. The second day, 
at five minutes of ten, “ Carrot-locks,” he muttered, 
“ what you study so hard for 1 awful easy lesson ! if 
you can’t get that, you ought to go into a class of 
babies ! ” 


A NANTUCKET STORY. 


Ill 


“ Hurrying to get through before the hour/' I 
whispered. 

As the clock struck, encouraged by his credulity, 
quick my right eyelids met, and suddenly my left 
orb, jerking round, fixed an unnatural glare upon the 
youth. This distortion I kept up as long as I could 
keep a sober countenance, which was a provokingly 
short time ; then, feigning a sigh, I resumed my 
study. I did enjoy my game. I had always feared 
this great muscular frame. Now I had him in my 
power. 

After a few days of untiring effort on my part to 
follow up this optical deception, Gilbert spoke of me 
as “ Nancy,” picked up my book when it fell, and it 
was possessed to fall very often, offered to assist me 
in subtraction, and patronized me generally. 

Saturday of the week, I was to leave Cousin 
Elizabeth Dick's school for another. I was so happy 
at the prospect of a change that I waxed bolder and 
bolder. When the day arrived, I gave Gilbert a 
double portion, commencing precisely at ten, but con- 
tinuing full five minutes by my own counting, pro- 
bably not mo^fe than a quarter of that time in reality. 


II2 


A NANTUCKET STORY. 


“Locks — Nancy, I mean — you grow worse and 

worse,” said he pathetically. 

“ Are you a goose ? ” I snapped back, for I hated 

pathos ; “ don’t you know the clocks are not alike on 

a cold day ? My eye doesn’t mind any particular one ; 

( 

the town clock is real slow this morning ! every clock 
now says ‘ after ten,’ so my eye is all right again ! ” 

I left school, trusting never to see, never to hear, 
of Gilbert Starbuck again. I was disappointed. On 
my way to the new school with my brother, I met 
Abby Starbuck, Gilbert’s sister. She accosted my 
elder, to my great disgust, speaking very loud, in this 
wise : 

“Dreadful about Nancy’s eyes! — that pin that 
she got in them which gives her winks and blinks ! ” 
My brother, being very near-sighted and very weak- 
sighted, was very sensitive to any allusion of the 
kind. Knowing me to be sound in this sense, he in- 
dignantly replied, “ Nothing ails Nancy’s eyes.” 

Abby, *being quicker and keener than Gilbert, evi- 
dently saw through the matter ; and raising her tone 
two octaves, shouted, “Why Nan-cy! I don’t know 
what will become of you !” 


A NANTUCKET STORY. 


My brother, not perceiving my blushes, drew me 
rapidly along, but turned back with one more fling at 
our assailant in these words : 

“ She’ll become ten times a better woman than you, 
and will know more than you and Gil together ! ” 

The latter not seeming improbable, I thought the 
former not impossible, and dismissed the whole affair 
from my mind. 

Gilbert’s father, who had been a successful whal- 
ing captain, had relinquished the seas, and with his 
family removed to the then Far West. I had forgot- 
ten that such persons ever lived in our town, not 
even reverting to Cousin Elizabeth Dick under whose 
guidance were the earliest and least pleasant expe- 
riences of my very happy school-days. 

Many years from that date, travelling with my 
husband and daughter through the West, we happened 
to spend a Sunday in one of the larger cities of the 
Buckeye State. Hearing the announcement that 
a Rev. Mr. Starbuck would offlciate in one of the 
churches there, our curiosity, his name being so 
purely Nantucket, decided us to attend that place of 
worship. 


A NANTUCKET STORY. 


II4 

The face of the minister was entirely unknown to 
us, as we expected. In the course of the sermon, 
which was a profound production and beautifully 
delivered, a nautical figure attracted my attention; 
also an allusion to life on the seashore. Being 
interested in our local genealogy, my thoughts during 
the singing were busily engaged with dates, families, 
&c. I had almost determined to which branch 
the gentleman might possibly belong when, involun- 
tarily, the names of Abby and James and Gilbert 
presented themselves. I was in a brown study; so 
much so, that after the rest of the congregation, wdth 
whom I had mechanically risen, had resumed their 
seats, I remained standing, till a twitching at my 
dress by a mortified juvenile led me to perceive, to 
my own amusement, my conspicuous position. As I 
sat down, I caught the look of Gilbert Starbuck in 
the clergyman. 

The old school-room flashed upon me. The 
dinner-pails on the mantelpiece, Cousin Elizabeth 
Dick in her high-backed chair, the farce that I 
practised upon the lad that sat beside me — all appeared 
before me. 


A NANTUCKET STORY. 


Could that heavy, dull boy have made this intelli- 
gent, high-toned man and could Gilbert be so few 
years my senior ? It must be so, and I would prove 
it. 

At the close of the services, as the reverend 
gentleman descended from the pulpit, leaving my 
companions in a maze, I proceeded to meet the 
minister. Reaching out my hand, I said, with a 
querying, rising inflection, “ Mr. Starbuck, Carrot- 
locks ? ” 

His look of surprise and perplexity, his apparent 
utter ignorance of me or mine, together with my 
great presumption in approaching him, had well-nigh 
taken my breath away; but suddenly, his whole 
countenance lighting up, right there in the church, 
laughing hard, he threw his head back with : 


“ Is it after ten by all of them ? ” 


POLLY’S NEST-EGG. 



NLY a hen ! ” ended 
Jack in great con- 
tempt. “ As if any- 
body ever did, or 
ever could, go to 
school from the sup- 
port of an old 
hen ! Don’t be 
absurd, Polly.” 
Jack’s sister 
“ o MY MARTHA ABBY,” SAID POLLY, . shook her head 

RAPTUROUSLY. 

somewhat sad- 
ly. “But, for all that, a hen can lay eggs,” said she. 

“Ho, ho, ho!” jeered Jack. “The idea of that 
ridiculous old fossil’s laying an egg ! Abner, O 
Abner, hear this : Polly means to go to school at 


Polly’s nest-egg. 


117 

Augusta, on the eggs her hen, Martha Abby Judson, 
lays, and Martha Abby’s a hundred and fifty years 
old, if she’s a day.” 

Abner, the hired man, leaned over the fence and 
contemplated Polly. Jack rocked to and fro in a 
convulsion of glee. 

“Martha Abby Judson lay an egg! O Abner! 
An egg — Martha Abby ! — an egg ! ” 

But Polly never smiled. Neither did Martha 
Abby Judson. Do you suppose that fowl was not 
aware that she was being made sport of ? Of course 
she knew. She stood solemnly balancing herself on 
one leg, her head drawn down between her shoulders, 
ruffling her scanty feathers, and giving a series of 
croaks which sounded as if made by means of a 
rusty file. 

“ Abner,” said Polly, soberly, “ it’s very unrespect- 
ful in you to laugh. My mother says I may go to 
the Augusta Female Cemetery if I can raise the 
money; and I can sell all the eggs my own hen lays, 
and there’ll be dozens and dozens.” 

“She means the Female Seminary^" cried Jack, 
with a fresh giggle. 


ii8 


POLLY S NEST-EGG. 


“ What’ll you be going to school in Augusty for ? ” 
asked Abner. 

“To learn ‘lit’chur and the arts,”’ answered Polly 
quietly. 

Olf went the wicked Jack in another burst of 
laughter. 

“ She means literature ; and ‘ the arts ’ is to work 
‘ God bless our Home ’ on card-board with green 
worsted.” 

“It isn’t green worsted, it’s steel beads,” inter- 
rupted Polly, hotly. “ Come away, Martha Abby 
Judson! You’re a bad boy, Jack Simmons.” 

“ Craw^ eraiv, craw ! You’re a h)ad boy ! ” croaked 
Martha Abby, stalking after her mistress with as 
much haughty dignity as a lame leg done up in red 
flannel would allow. 

A very lean and scrawny specimen was Martha 
Abby. She always looked as if she were indulging 
a private grief. And as for being “ a hundred and 
fifty years old,” one would hardly have been sur- 
prised to hear that she had clucked in the May- 
flower. 

“My own Martha Abby, come into your coop,” 


Polly’s nest-egg. 


119 

said Polly tenderly. “ Don’t you mind that viperous 
boy, nor that receited Abner. Here’s a nest for you ; 
and don’t you think you could lay a few dozens eggs 
before the price goes down ? I do so want to learn 
lit’chur and the arts, Martha Abby.” 

Cluck replied Martha Abby, briefly. From 
the tone, Polly could hardly tell whether to hope or 
despair. 

Taking the benefit of the doubt, she concluded to 
hope ; and hope she did for weeks and weeks. 
Every morning she visited the barn. Never an egg 
did she find. So time passed until one rainy morn- 
ing in summer. 

“Any eggs?” inquired the uncrushable Jack at 
the breakfast table. Patiently Polly looked up from 
her plate to answer, when, “ Cluck, cluck, craw ! ” 

There, on the threshold, stood Martha Abby 
Judson in a state of intense excitement. 

“ She’s come in to get dry,” exclaimed Polly. 

But no. Something more than wet feathers was 
evidently the matter. 

“ Cluck, cluck, craw ! ” 

There was a tinge of triumph in that last wheeze, 


120 


Polly’s nest-egg. 


and Martha Abby was hobbling out again in what 
might jocosely be termed a hurry. 

“ Clnck ! duck ’duck ! ” 

“ I do believe,” began Polly, “ I verily believe — ” 

Without finishing her sentence, out into the rain, 
down to the barn she sped. There was nothing in 
the nest. Polly must wait till Martha Abby herself 
should arrive. 

Now she must follow her hen across the barn to a 
remote corner. Here Martha Abby both halted and 
ceased to halt (which you see is a joke !) and stood 
casting suspicious yet rather joyful glances at one 
tiny brown egg. 

“ O my Martha Abby,” cried Polly rapturously^ 
“ I knew you could ! I was sure you would ! Oh, 
my duck of a dear, what shall we do ? ” 

“ Cluck! we’ll begin to sit,” quoth Martha Abby, 
crouching on her one egg with as much complacency 
as if it had been the “ dozens and dozens ” of prophecy. 

“She’s laid an egg! she’s laid an egg!” cried 
Polly, dancing into the house. 

“ How many ?” demanded Jack. “ One, but a — 


lion I ” 


Polly’s nest-egg. 


121 


That sentence, though highly poetical, was unfor- 
tunate ; for it immediately became next to impossible 
to prevent Jack from going in all haste to the barn, 
to “ see the beast in his native jungle, and to hear 
him roar.” 

With what eagerness did grave little Polly count 
the days before she could hear the first “ peep ” of 
the coming chick. 

“And now you are so encouraged, Martha Abby, 
you will surely lay more eggs, and ^Ac?se we will sell. 
I Just let you hatch this one to cheer your droops, 
my lovey. But we’ll raise money out of the rest, 
and I’ll have new gowns, and I’ll go to school, and 
I learn ‘lit’chur and the arts,’ and — and I must, 
you know, I must have an education.” 

In the mean time Polly flew about, helping her 
mother to put the house in order for the coming 
session of the Supreme Court. 

For the village where our Polly lived, was the 
county shire town. Twice every year the judges and 
lawyers arrived, and the prisoners were brought out 
of the brick jail to be “sat upon,” as Jack said. 

Those were gala days to the village folk. Every 


122 


POLLY’S NEST-EGG. 


one kept open house and entertained the “ court.” 

Mrs. Simmons’ mansion being the largest in 
the village, she always welcomed the grandest man ; 
namely, Judge Elihu Hitherfly of Augusta. 

Mrs. Simmons herself felt somewhat honored by 
the patronage of this august person. But as for 
Polly, she was much overpowered by his grandeur, 
and always quaked in her shoes when he conde- 
scended to address her in his big voice, which re- 
minded her of the rumbling of distant thunder. 

Jack’s awe was not so great. He was obliged to 
act as body-servant to Judge Hitherfly whenever 
that worthy appeared. Not only was he called upon 
to brush the judge’s clothes, black his boots, run his 
errands, but every night he was required to repair to 
the guest-chamber, and then and there tuck the 
portly embodiment of the law into bed ! 

Do you wonder that Jack refused to worship his 
honor, and can you not see that it was no light matter 
to receive Judge Elihu Hitherfly under the Simmons’ 
roof ? 

Polly was, as I said, very busy. But she found 
ample leisure to watch that egg; and in due time 


Polly’s nest-egg. 


123 


came her reward ! The morning at last dawned 
when “ peep ! ” out of the egg crept what might al- 
most have been mistaken for the ghost of a chicken. 
It was the exact image of its mother. Just as lean, 
just as scrawny, just as ancient-looking, just as 
mournful. 

The irrepressible Jack set up a shout. 

“You might as well call it I^amejitation^ and done 
with it ! ” cried he. 

There could be found no other name half as ap- 
propriate, and henceforth “ Lamentation Judson ” 
could be seen roaming sadly about the hen-yard with 
its melancholy mamma. But Polly loved it quite as 
tenderly as if it had been a beauty. 

“ Soon you and your mother will both lay eggs for 
me,” she said cheerfully. “ An’ I need you both.” 

She even thought of inviting Judge Hitherfly to 
come out and view her darlings. She wondered if 
that great man could discern, in spite of their ex- 
teriors, the real worth of her pets. 

It really seemed as if those fowls themselves 
desired the Judge’s notice. For, the very day he 
arrived, just as the family had sat down to dinner, a 







Hi 


tWli* fl 

C\«J» ' _NaM 

|^i;,'l?C*”vJ^J 

fe #1 



V * * 



■/ 1 ijf ^ 

vwO'tlSj 

KaS^'CI 





BAl V A ^ 


I 





Polly’s nest-egg. 


125 


cluck, cluck, craw and a faint peep, peep,^' were 
heard, and into the dining-room limped Martha 
Abby, followed by her attenuated child. 

How Lamentation ever climbed the doorsteps, 
remains a mystery to this day; but there she stood, 
as large as life, which is saying very little. 

The Judge stared over his gold-bowed spectacles. 
Polly started from her chair, but paused, struck by a 
sudden consternation. For — how can I tell it? — 
that respectable bird, that sedate fowl, that hereto- 
fore solemn Martha Abby Judson, spread her wings, 
mounted flapping into the air, and before the startled 
family could breathe, alighted, — horror of horrors ! — 
on the very top of Judge Elihu Hitherfly’s head. 
Here she crouched, as if she approved of such a soft 
nest ; and, '•'■Craw, — craw, — cr-aw!’’ said she. 

There was dire confusion, as you can well believe^ 
Mrs. Simmons seized the hen with both hands.. But 
Martha Abby was not to be trifled with ; and when 
she was dragged from her perch, in her claws she 
held a glossy, well-oiled black wig. 

Polly never knew what happened after that, for 
she turned and fled. She was disgraced forever. 


126 


POLLY S NEST-EGG. 


Awful visions of a prison-cell rose before her. What 
if she, Polly Simmons, should be dragged into cour^ 
for the crime of owning such a hen ! Shut into her 
own room, Polly trembled. 

All at once a new idea flashed into her mind. 
Could no reparation be made? But this new idea 
made Polly tremble even more. At last it was a very 
sad little girl who stole down the back stairs. It was 
a tearful little girl who hovered over a sauce-pan on 
the kitchen stove. It was a pitiful little face oppo- 
site the insulted Judge at the tea-table. 

For, by Judge Hitherfly’s plate was a small platter. 
On the platter was much gravy ; in the midst of the 
gravy lay — 

“Why, what is this, Polly?” asked Mrs. Simmons. 

“ Mother,” mother, cried Polly, the scalding tears 
chasing one another down her cheeks, “ Mother, 
it’s — Lamentation /” 

It was indeed ; for the sin of her mother. Lamen- 
tation had been required to give up her innocent life. 

And did the Judge accept such an offering? I 
regret to state that he did. That is, he ate the gravy, 
and he would have devoured the flesh from Lamenta- 


Polly’s nest-egg. 


127 


tion’s tiny bones had there been any flesh to devour. 
As it was, he smacked his cruel lips over the bones 
themselves, and remarked, “Very good, very well sea- 
soned ! ” to Polly’s mingled satisfaction and anguish. 

It was Jack who came -to Polly about nine o’clock 
that evening. 

“ That’s the last of him for to-night,” said he, 
pointing to the Judge’s chamber. “I’ve tucked him 
in with a vengeance. And he says you’re to come to 
him in the parlor to-morrow, Polly, at eight o’clock, 
pre-c\sQ\y. See you do it, if you know what’s good 
for you.” 

Polly dared not disobey such a summons, and at 
“ eight o’clock, //'^-cisely,” she crept into the parlor. 

There stood the Judge. He gave a resounding 
“ Hem ! ” which made Polly jump. Then he opened 
his mouth and spake. 

“I am given to understand by your mother, young 
girl, that you entertain a commendable desire to pro- 
gress in learning.” 

Polly glanced timidly up, and then down. 

“I find myself interested in your welfare,” the 
Judge continued in his rumbling voice. “The man- 


128 


POLLY’S NEST-EGG. 


ner in which you have conducted under late trying 
circumstances has shown me that your mind is not of 
an ordinary cast. A principle of sincere though 
mistaken justice is worth cultivating. I have offered 
for myself and Mrs. Hitherfly to consider you as our 
guest for a year, in order that you may avail yourself 
of the privileges of the Augusta Female Seminary. 
Be ready, if you please, to accompany me home next 
Wednesday.” 

Half of this address Polly by no means under- 
stood. The one clear point was that her mother 
would allow her to go to Augusta to school. She 
should have a chance at “lit’chur and the arts,” 
after all. And, wonderful to relate, it was through 
Martha Abby Judson the good fortune came. Even 
Jack admitted that. 

Martha Abby evidently understood it also ; for, on 
Wednesday, when Polly drove out of the yard in 
Judge Hitherfly’s two-wheeled chaise, there by the 
gate stood the dejected form of Martha Abby, with a 
black, instead of a red rag, round her leg. 

“ I was bound to help you, somehow. Cluck^ 
cluck, cr-aw ! ” croaked she. 


LOST IN POMPEII. 


^ I "'OM MORGAN was a very young midshipman 
attached to a very fine frigate lying, at the 
time of which I write, in the beautiful harbor of 
Naples. Tom and I had become very warm friends ; 
in fact Tom was a general favorite on account of his 
cleverness and amiability. 

Sometimes at night I used to go into the forecastle, 
when Tom happened to be on watch, to look at 
Vesuvius, which had recently been in a state of erup- 
tion, and to have a promenade along the deck. 
Many a pleasant hour Tom and I thus spent with 
the. rigging of the ship lighted up around us like the 
great trees about a huge camp-fire, 
y'fom had had a remarkable adventure, and one 
night not long after, I found him in the forecastle 
where I had gone to hear the story from his own 


130 


LOST IN POMPEII. 


lips. It had made as great a sensation in the ship 
as it would have made in Tom’s immediate family 
and as in fact it did make when Tom detailed it in a 
long letter to his mother. 

I must say here that I am not at liberty to give 
Tom’s real name to the boys and girls of who read 
this. It was with great difficulty that I obtained 
his consent to write the story for publication. I only 
regret, however, that I shall not be able to tell it in 
the simple, graphic way in which it was told to" me. 
With his intelligent face lighted by the glow of 
Vesuvius, Tom held my closest attention for the 
greater part of his watch. 

What boy has not been moved by the story of 
Pompeii ! More than any other ancient city, it excites 
our sympathy and arouses our curiosity. How it 
was destroyed, the long centuries it lay completely 
entombed, the many beautiful things discovered in 
excavating it, as well as the sad things it reveals, 
have been repeated to us since earliest childhood. 

Tom, like thousands of other boys, had become an 
enthusiast over Pompeii ; and, being now where he 
could almost see its walls from the ship’s foretop, he 


LOST IN POMPEII. 


I?I 

resolved to visit it at the earliest opportunity. He 
arranged, with two other midshipmen, to ask for two 
days’ leave when their duties would permit them to 
be absent from the ship. Strictly speaking, a mid- 
shipman’s duties would never allow him to be away 
from his ship. Tom, as young as he was, had to 
stand watch, go in boats, do messenger dut)^, and 
once — shall I tell it on him? — he was sent after 
milk for the admiral’s baby. A midshipman ashore 
looks very grand in his brass buttons, and with his 
military bearing; but on board ship he is looked upon 
as a mere boy from the admiral down to “Jack-of- 
the-dust.” Fortunately, Tom got his leave all right, 
and one morning before sunrise he and his compan- 
ions were spinning out of Naples over the great 
highway thit leads to Pompeii. 

I will not describe their beautiful, exhilarating 
ride. In about two hours the driver drew up at the 
Hotel Diomede just outside the walls of Pompeii, 
and announced their arrival. The crew of the 
Jeannette would not attack a breakfast with a more 
arctic appetite than the boys did that awaiting 
them. Not even the singing and dancing of 


LOST IN POMPEII. 


132 

a band of street musicians could divert them. 

The boys felt remarkably lively when they had 
finished their breakfast and started for the city. 
They entered it by the Porta Marina^ the ancient sea 
gate, and were at once among the shops and houses 
of Pompeii. How wonderfully real everything 
seemed ! The inhabitants of eighteen hundred years 
ago seemed to have just left the steets. There were 
the shops, the school-houses, the bakeries, nearly 
everything standing, and, as Tom humorously re- 
marked, “ in excellent repair.” Tom had seen just 
such shops in Smyrna, with jars of wine and oil in the 
counters, and he was quite surprised that they should 
be just like the shops before his eyes ; but he soon 
discovered that the people of the East dwell in the 
same kind of houses, live about the same kind of 
domestic life, and carry on their business in about 
the same way, as the people of Pompeii did so many 
hundred years ago. 

He had been somewhat prepared for this line of 
discovery. At the museum in Naples he had learned 
in the cabinet of gems that our most beautiful forms 
of jewelry are mere copies of those worn by the rich 


LOST IN POMPEII. 


^33 


ladies of Pompeii. A handsome bit which his father 
had once bought to restrain a vicious horse, and 
which had been extensively advertised as the greatest 
modern invention for that purpose, he found to be in 
every particular like the bits on a cluster of Pompeian 
war-bridles. Tom wrote home that he had discovered 
nearly everything modern among the Pompeian col- 
lections, from a steel pen to a Singer sewing-machine. 

But we have no time for historical comparisons. 
The boys ran about the streets on a perfect lark. 
They tripped over the huge stepping-stones, sank 
their feet into the ruts made by ancient chariots 
and drags, and brought up short against the foun- 
tains at the street corners. They chased each other 
in and out of the baths, up to the topmost walls of 
the temples of Jupiter and Venus, and in another 
part of the city Tom infuriated the guide by running 
along the top of the old arcade with his comrades in 
full pursuit. In short, they looked into every hole 
and corner of Pompeii, the fat guide puffing and 
blowing after them like a locomotive, and, I am sorry 
to add, swearing too. 

Sleep was sweet that night at the Hotel Diomede. 


134 


LOST IN POMPEII. 


When the boys awoke, the sun had been long risen. 
They hurried through their toilet, ate a hasty break- 
fast, and by eight o'clock they had entered the city, 
with entirely new plans for die day. 

Tom had a decided talent for exploration. He 
liked to go from the main truck to the keel of a ship, 
and he treated an old building in the same way. 
He was, in fact, 'more interested in the foundations 
of temples and amphitheatres than in their upper 
works. This day he declared his intention of seeing 
something of subtergipean Pompeii. Like all good 
travellers he stuffed his. pockets with candles, and 
refilled his spring box with matches, and felt well 
equipped for finding his way through the gloomiest 
passage he might get into. 

He left the other boys to dig in a house which was 
being excavated in honor of General Grant’s visit, 
which had been made to the city a short time previous ; 
and started for the Temple^ of Isis, beneath which 
are some very curious passages. As he crossed the 
intersection of the streets Abimdance and Stabice, he 
observed a large opening to the left, which curiosity 
led him to examine. Passing over to it, he looked 


LOST IN POMPEII. 


135 

down into what he thought must have been the main 
sewer of the ancient city which had been uncovered 
at this place. It was about half fall of clear, swift- 
running water, swollen by recent rains almost to 
a torrent. While he conjectured the probable use 
of this ancient passage, his eye caught a bright little 
daisy springing from the wall close to the water’s edge. 
“ What a souvenir that would be for my sister Kate ! ” 
he exclaimed ; and without waiting an instant to 
consider possible consequences, he started down 
after it. - ^ 

The walls of the sewer were built of rough stones 
which projected far enough to give Tom excellent 
footing ; and he began his descent with as much 
ease and confidence as he would “ lay down from- 
aloft.” Witf his eye fixed on the daisy, he neglected 
to inspect that part of the wall lying just above it. 
Here was a large stone which from some cause had 
become so loose that it barely held its place in the 
wall. Unconsciously Tom put his hand upon this 
stone, and, depending his weight upon it, stooped to 
pick the daisy. Alas for pool* Tom ! no sooner had 
he reached down than the stone broke suddenly 


136 LOST IN POMPEII. 

away, and he was cast headlong into the boiling 
current. 

Quick as thought he turned, so that he should not 
be carried down head-foremost. He struck out with 
all his might, grasped at the stones, tried to touch 
bottom with his feet, and by clinging to the wall, see 
if he could not stay his progress down the stream. 
But his hands were cruelly torn away, and every time 
he struck bottom, his feet whre instantly swept from 
under him, and he was borne down with redoubled 
force. Despite his struggles, he had been carried 
so far that he could just discern the light falling into 
the sewer through the fatal aperture. It was grow- 
ing horribly dark. All he could do now was to keep 
himself on his back, and allow himself to be swept 
on without a struggle, and with' scarcely a hope of 
escape. 

Tom’s heart sank within him. A vision of his 
beautiful home with all its love and solicitude came 
before him ; and the awful sense of his mother’s and 
sister’s grief, should they never hear from him again, 
came down upon his heart with crushing force. He 
thought of his messmates, of the grand old frigate 


LOST IN POMPEII. 


^37 


of which he had been so proud, of a thousand beau- 
tiful things to which he must now bid good-by 
forever. Not a ray of light now came to Tom’s eyes, 
or to his mind; but he called back his fugitive cour- 
age, and resolved to drown as bravely as he would 
die if called to do so upon a quarterdeck. 

While all this was passing in Tom’s mind, he was 
suddenly thrown with almost stunning force against 
what seemed to him to be a projecting wall. For an 
instant he was drawn completely under by the suction 
at that point ; then he seemed to be forced out of 
the old channel into a new one where the water was 
not more than half so deep as in the old. Nearly 
strangled, he recovered his feet, and found that he 
could stand without difficulty. When he had recov- 
ered his breath, he waded a few steps forward, and 
discovered that the water all the time grew shallower. 
It was now scarcely up to his waist. He knew that 
it would be impossible to get back to the place where 
he had fallen in, and that there was nothing to do 
but to move on. He accounted for his improved 
situation, on the ground that the passage he was 
now in branched off from the main sewer. Carefully 


•3S 


LOST IN POMPEII. 


he felt his way along, grateful that he had been 
saved from immediate drowning, to say the least. 
After he had proceeded in this way several rods, the 
water all the time strangely subsiding, his progress was 
abruptly checked by the debris of an old wall which 
filled the passage full. 

He had been hoping to come upon another open- 
ing like that which occasioned his misfortune ; but 
here he was, as it seemed, completely imprisoned. 
For a moment he was bewildered, and leaned for- 
ward upon the stones, not knowing what to do. 
“ Ah ! he said, “ this is seeing, or rather feeling, 
subterranean Pompeii. This is worse than the 
catacombs ; for there, at least, you would be dry shod, 
and could keep moving for ten years.” All at once 
the very simple thought occurred to him that if a 
wall had caved in, it would naturally leave some kind 
of an opening in the place where it had been stand- 
ing. 

Acting upon this very elementary logical sequence, 
he began to climb over the pile of stones, and pres- 
ently found himself in a very large cavity with his 
feet upon a smooth dry surface. He felt around till 


LOST IN POMPEII. 


139 


his hands came in contact with another wall of much 
heavier masonry than any he had thus far met. 
Moving on, he was surprised by another wall run- 
ning at right angles with the one along which he had 
been feeling. As he proceeded, his feet kept striking 
against what sounded wonderfully like earthenware, 
and all at once it dawned upon him that he was in a 
cellar or a dungeon . Following upon the heels of this 
thought was the recollection that his pockets were 
stuffed with candles. 

Boys who camp out are usually wonderfully fertile 
in invention, and Tom was as clever as the cleverest 
of them. Tom had this advantage : he could make 
wet candles burn more readily than wet wood. He 
quickly drew one from his pocket, cut off the end 
to get rid of the wet wick, and after violently rubbing 
his box till the friction removed all the moisture, he 
struck a match, and had the joy of seeing his candle 
burn. 

Tom’s prospects now began to brighten, though 
still in a very dubious state. He pulled off his 
clothes and wrung them as dry as possible, emptied 
the water out of his shoes, and felt by this process 


140 


LOST IN POMPEII. 


his weight diminish by something like a hundred 
pounds. He then began to examine his new quar- 
ters. He was delighted to find that he was indeed 
in a cellar. Great abutments here and there, dozens 
of jars ranged along the walls, made it clear to Tom 
that he had found his way into one of the large wine 
cellars of Pompeii. Why this cellar had not been 
filled with ashes and pumice stone like the others 
that had been found, he could not tell. Wiser 
people than Tom must answer this question. All he 
knew was that there was the cellar, and he was the 
only visitor it had had for eighteen hundred years. 

You would naturally expect Tom to feel very much 
exhausted about this time ; and seeing so many jars 
he began to wonder if it could be possible that any 
of them contained wine. If eggshells, and nuts, 
and brown bread had been kept so long, why not 
wine in glazed jars hermetically sealed ? Do not 
believe it, boys, if you do not wish to. But Tom 
actually told it to me, and I believe him. He found 
a jar containing real wine ; and under the circum- 
stances any doctor would advise the most temperate 
boy to drink it, as Tom did on this occasion. What 


LOST IN POMPEII. 


I41 

king or millionaire ever drank wine such as this that 
grew on the slopes of Mount Vesuvius, it may be, two 
thousand years ago ! 

In a distant part of the cellar Tom found stone 
steps very much dilapidated and littered, but afford- 
ing room enough for a passage-way ! Up these steps 
he crawled till he came to the remains of what had 
been a massive door. By the falling of a door, just 
room enough had been left to get through. Shield- 
ing his candle from the strong draft which followed 
him in his course from the sewer, our hero pushed 
his way through, and stepped into what appeared to 
be a large corridor, such as he had seen in the villa 
Diomede the day before. You can imagine Tom’s 
astonishment when he realized that he had dis- 
covered an actual house — a house, so far as he had 
explored, which had not been filled up with ashes 
and pumice stone like the others that have been 
found. He could scarcely conceive the possibility 
of such a thing; but as far as he could see into the 
gloom of the corridor, everything was clear. 

So engrossed was Tom with the thought of his 
great discovery that he forgot all about his wet con- 


142 


LOST IN POMPEII. 


dition, and the possibility that in a hundred years or 
so they might find his skeleton, and take it to be that 
of an ancient Pompeian youth. An inexperienced 
boy would have been appalled at the darkness out- 
side the little circle of light made by the candle ; but 
Tom had been in trying situations before, though we 
must confess never in any so unpromising as the 
present. In fact, as he forced his way through a 
small side entrance, and stood in what was evidently 
a large room or court, his thoughts amused him. 

“ I wonder,” he said, “ if I rummage round here 
if it will wake up the family and make them think 
there’s a burglar in the house ! ” He laughed out- 
right at this. He concluded, however, to take a look 
around, now that he was fairly in the house : after 
that he would consider the matter of his escape. 

Tom knew enough of the plan of a great Pompeian 
house to know now where he was, and to have a good 
idea of how to begin his investigations. 

His feelings being decidedly agricultural, he 
thought it would be a good plan to find the dining- 
room, though not N\ith the slightest anticipation of 
getting anything to eat. But he thought the sugges- 


LOST IN POMPEII. 


H3 


tion would be pleasant. All around him were the 
remains of what had once been the costliest furni- 
ture, over which he was obliged to climb in making 
his way to the opposite side. He entered what had 
been a richly ornamented room. It was small, but 
large enough to accommodate a good-sized family. 
A large bronze table stood in tl.e centre of the floor, 
on three sides of which were broad seats on which 
the family reclined while eating. On the table stood 
several large dishes, one of which was covered with 
beautiful chased work of children playing on the 
backs of turtles, and climbing reeds in great glee 
along the River Nile. The walls were frescoed 
with lively hunting scenes, and midway between the 
floor and the ceiling was a panelling heavily plated 
with gold, running entirely around the room. “ I 
wouldn’t object to dining here,” thought Tom, “ if 
the owner would only have his bright work polished 
up and the place scrubbed and dusted.” 

But Tom was obliged to make a more hasty survey. 
His stock of candles was not large, and the all-im- 
portant question of how he was going to escape from 
his prison had not been settled. Around the house 


144 


LOST IN POMPEII. 


he went, now looking at a picture, and now at a statue 
in bronze or marble. In one room he lingered 
several minutes, admiring what he took to be repre- 
sentations of the seven wonders of the world in 
bronze. He ran his hand over the smooth Colossus, 
and the polished shaft of the Pharos at Alexandria, 
and stopped long enough to count the one hundred 
and twenty-seven columns of the beautiful temple of 
Diana at Ephesus. In one room were many rolls of 
papyri, or ancient Latin writings, and in the same 
room was a statue of Venus, which Tom thought the 
loveliest of all he had ever seen. One room was 
full of busts and statues, which he judged to be the 
cediciila^ or chapel of the establishment, the place 
where the “ household gods ” were worshipped. All 
the while beautiful pictures looked down upon him 
from the walls ; and he felt that he was in one of the 
wealthiest and most magnificent houses of the 
ancient world. Thus he went about examining many 
objects of great beauty and value which will one day 
astonish the world ; and was about to form some plan 
of escape, when by mere accident he stepped into 
one of the sleeping apartments of the house. 


LOST IN POMPEII. 


H5 

The sleeping rooms of an ancient house were very 
small, but oftentimes were fitted up with great 
elegance. The one in which Tom found himself 
had been one of the richest. The cornice work had 
been heavily gilded, and evidently the finest painters 
had been employed to decorate the walls. Though 
kowing little about mythology, Tom had been cap- 
tivated by the graceful, airy figures in the museum, 
but he had seen nothing which he thought could 
compare with the wonderful forms before his eyes. He 
thought, “This must have been the boudoir of a beau- 
tiful young lady,” and Tom’s gallant soul was deeply 
moved by his fancy. “Who knows,” he continued, 
“ but at the great destruction she died in this house, 
and that in this very room I may find evidence c f 
it!” 

As he thought thus, he cast his eyes towards a 
little inlaid table, the top of which rested upon a 
delicate silver shaft, and saw upon it a drinking cup 
of most exquisite form. This cup was of silver and 
gold, and in his hand seemed of astonishing weight. 
When he had rubbed it a little, he found it to be set 
with precious stones, and to be richly wrought in 


146 


LOST IN POMPEII, 


scenes of Bacchanalian feasts. A little gold lamp 
stood with it on the table. In one corner of the 
room stood the bedstead. Something about it at once 
arrested Tom’s attention. It was so graceful, and so 
different from anything else he had ever seen, that 
he began to examine it minutely. It vv^as apparently 
of solid silver. About the posts heavily laden vines 
were entwined, and along the other parts were pict- 
ures in relief, all composed of a shining substance 
like gold. It was a couch befitting a Cleopatra. 

Upon the bed was a dark substance which Tom 
had not as yet noticed. As he glanced down upon 
it, he gave a start ; for there indeed was evidence that 
this was once the couch of one who had been no 
doubt one of Pompeii’s most charming ladies. Glit- 
tering among the few small bones which were all 
that now remained was a ring. Tom very tenderly, 
though with considerable trepidation, drew the ring 
from the delicate bone of a once beautiful finger, 
gathered up his drinking cup and his gold lamp, and 
wished, like another Aladdin, that he might, with his 
lamp and ring, summon genii who could at once 
transport him to the surface of the earth. 


LOST IN POMPEII. 


H7 


Tom had seen more wonderful things than I can 
relate, and now set about in earnest to make his 
escape. He lighted a fresh candle and began to 
circumnavigate the interior of the house. For an 
hour he examined different places to ascertain if he 
might not, by digging, effect a passage out. A small 
avalanche of dirt showed him the danger of his 
method of sapping and mining. He was forced 
finally to resort to the sewer. He passed through 
the cellar and crawled out on to the fallen wall which 
had made the only opening into the house, and soon, 
by hard lifting, he moved a sufficient number of the 
stones to admit him into the sewer on the other side 
of the obstmction. He was overjoyed to find it quite 
free from water. 

I will not describe the weary hours Tom spent in 
black passages, now crawling, now walking erect, 
alternating between hope and fear. At last, when he 
was about to give up in despair, a faint ray of light 
caught his eye and thrilled him with new hope and 
courage. Through sand and bushes he at last forced 
his way into liberty, for he had found the mouth of 
a sewer. The sun was just setting, and cast a 


148 


LOST IN POMPEII. 


beautiful halo about the place where Tom emerged. 
He threw himself down exhausted, but was cheered 
by the golden sunlight and the music of the sea that 
came rippling up almost to bis feet. Glad was he 
that night to accept the hospitality of a poor fisher- 
man ; and, with his treasures safely hid under his 
pillow, he slept as sweetly as in the easiest hammock. 

The news of Tom’s adventure spread like wildfire 
over Naples. Signor Fiorelli, the supervisor of ex- 
cavations at Pompeii and director of the Miiseo 
Nazionale, called upon the Admiral to ascertain the 
truth of the report, and Tom was summoned into 
the cabin, and through an interpreter told what I have 
already related. Signor Fiorelli said, after he had 
heard all the facts, and carefully examined the objects 
that Tom had brought away with him, that in all 
probability the world awaits the most interesting dis- 
covery in Pompeii of any that has been made. 

Tom honestly gave up his curios^ but Signor 
Fiorelli returned the lamp and the cup, keeping the 
ring for its great value. On the ring was found a 
delicate inscription in Latin, which you may easily read ; 
and whose value to Signor Fiorelli and the world I 


LOST IN POMPEII. 


149 


will trust to your interest in Tom to ascertain from 
works on Pompeii. It reads: 

Julia^ filia Diomedis. 

On a little richly inlaid table in a beautiful parlor 
on Lexington Avenue stands the gold lamp highly 
polished. In a charming manner Miss Kate Morgan 
relates her brother Tom’s adventure. Another beau- 
tiful young lady residing on Fifth Avenue, whose 
name is well known in art circles, prizes the cup as 
the richest of all her gifts, and the one who gave it 
as the best of all her friends. 


Farewell, farewell ! but this I tell 
To thee, thou wedding guest ! 

He prayeth well who loveth well 
Both man and bird and beast. 

He prayeth best who loveth best 
All things, both great and small ; 

For the dear God who loveth us. 

He made and loveth all. ^ 

— Coleridge. 


Be kind to dumb creatures, be gentle, be true. 
For food and protection they look up to you ; 
For affection and help to your bounty they turn. 
Oh, do not their trusting hearts wantonly spurn ! 


ROBIN HOOD’S GHOST. 


( A true account of a ghost as seen by Mr. Thackeray and Mr. 
Dickens^ and others, in a Nottingham graveyard.) 


HERWOOD FOREST, in the centre of which 



Nottingham now stands, was famous as a re- 
treat for warlike and lawless men even in the 
time of the Romans ; for the woods were w'onder- 
fully deep and dense and the trees of great size 
and bdauty. After many hundred years the woods 
began to grow narrower and thinner, and fields of 
grain took their places. But still, even in Robin 
Hood’s time, enough remained to make a very se- 
cure hiding-place for Robin and his many merry 
men. And his exploits here, were they all known, 
would fill many books. 

The king and his court would come out here to 
hunt, all the way from London, in great gilded car- 
riages, with pompous powdered footmen holding on 


ROBIN hood’s ghost. 


behind. Robin did not like these, and he played 
them so many sorry tricks that the king set a price 
on his head. 

But as we all know, Robin Hood always es- 
caped, for he has many true friends, and lived to 
die of old age in his dear leafy old Sherwood 
Forest, near Nottingham. 

This Nottingham is, and always was, a wonder- 
ful place. Here many of the beautiful laces of 
the world have long been made. It is now a 
very wealthy city and has nearly a quarter of a 
million people, and it is building, too, all the time 
as fast as any Western town. The name at first 
was spelled Notte-ham. If you take your Latin 
and Saxon books and look up these words, you 
will find what they mean. You see the north bank 
of the Trent River here is a great steep sandstone 
mountain, and into this sandstone, thousands of 
years ago, the wild inhabitants dug holes and made 
for themselves dark homes, or homes of night : 
Notte-ham. 

Of course the dwellers in these caves were never 
conquered ; and Robin Hood was as safe, once 


153 


ROBIN hood’s ghost. 


under the ground, as in a castle ; and a great deal 
more so indeed ; for these dark passages reached 
for miles and miles under the earth, and were all 
connected together. And as they were dark and 
crooked and full of pits and falls known only to 
Robin Hood and his men, no soldiers ever dared 
venture far to follow him. 

As England began to he civilized the hundreds 
and thousands of women sitting at the mouths of 
these caves looking out toward the sun, thought to 
themselves iha*: they must do something besides 
harbor their robber husbands and carry wood and 
water. And so sitting there at the mouths of their 
caves in the sunlight, they began to weave lace. 
You can understand that with the dark cave be- 
hind, and the bright sun pouring in before, they 
could see the fine threads clearly and could do won- 
derful work. And this was twice the fountain of 
one of the greatest industries, as well as one of 
the wealthiest cities, in all this world. Do not 
forget this. And now we are going to come to 
the ghost. 

Three years ago I spent the summer in Sher- 


ROBIN hood’s ghost. 


153 

wood Forest. Some of the time I lived at New- 
stead Abbey, the beautiful and stately old home of 
Lord Byron. And a portion of the summer I 
spent at Bestwood, with the Duke of St. Albans. 

The name and estate of Bestwood came about 
in this way : Little Nell Gwynne, who had once 
been a poor girl, and sang and sold oranges in 
the streets of London, was brought out here on 
one occasion with the king and his hunting party. 
The poor girl had worked her way up in the world, 
and had persuaded some wealthy people to found 
a hospital for poor and unfortunate soldiers and 
sailors, so that she became a great favorite and 
every one loved her But with all her influence 
and good deeds she was not rich. And so on this 
occasion, she asked the king for a bit of land in 
Sherwood Forest, where she might have a home 
and settle down and live and die in peace, away 
from the excitement and sin of London ; and the 
king at last consented to give her as much land 
as she could set a mark around before break- 
fast. 

Now the dews are heavy in Sherwood Forest, 


154 


ROBIN hood’s ghost. 


and the bushes always wet of a morning ; and the 
crafty old king felt- certain that little Neil would 
walk but a little way in her dainty slippers before 
breakfast. 

Walk! Not little Nell! She mounted a horse 
at the first peep of day, while the old king still 
slept, and taking a battle-axe in her hands, she 
blazed over about seven miles, and got back all 
right, and ready for breakfast before the king 
knew what she had been about. 

And so the land became hers. She made it 
her home, and called it “ Bestwood,” because she 
had chosen the best woods in all Sherwood Forest. 

Her descendants are dukes, and they stand very 
near the throne. And to this day this “ Best- 
wood ” is their home. It is a lovely place indeed. 
The ancient house echoes with the laughter of 
many merry children, and about the walls hang 
many tokens and pictures of poor, tender-hearted 
little Nell who once sold oranges and sang for 
her bread in the streets of London. The storv of 
her life reads almost like that of Ruth or Hagai* 
or some other tender bit from the Bible. 


ROBIN hood’s ghost. 


^55 


Now for the ghost! Close to Newstead Abbey is 
Robin Hood’s cave. Of course every traveller 
visits this cave, although it does not amount to 
much. For remarkable as it may seem, we are 
assured that there is an underground passage all 
the way from this cave to the castle on the sum- 
mit of the sandstone mountain, in the city of Not- 
tingham. Though this castle is now a museum of 
fine arts, it was the last stronghold of Charles 
the First, just before he lost his head. Cromwell 
feared to attack it. Richard the Lion-hearted 
fought his brother here, sword in hand, after 
he had usurped his throne, while the king was 
away in the wars of the Crusades, and it was 
built, or at least made a great castle, by William 
the Conqueror. So you see Nottingham Castle has 
no mean place in history. From the high summit 
you can see the little church at Hucknall four 
miles away to the southwest, where Lord Byron 
lies buried. And two miles away to the south we 
can see the humble home of poor Kirke White. 

Well, these lacemakers of Nottingham never bury 
their dead in the ground. As a rule, they put them 


156 


ROBIN hood’s ghost. 


in catacombs, much as the early Christians did in 
Rome. They cut out fine family vaults from the soft 
and durable sandstone. Some of the old families 
here can point out, laid neatly away on the shelves, 
their ancestors’ coffins nearly a thousand years old. 
On a high knoll a little way outside of the city, a deep 
carriageway is cut through the sandstone, with vaults 
on either side. Some of these very old vaults are open, 
the hinges broken or rusted away, the doors rotten. 

About twenty- five years ago, before the telegraph 
and papers began to inform all the world at the same 
instant of everything that is going on — and a great 
deal more — it was suddenly rumored, on the very 
best authority too, that an actual ghost was to be 
seen nightly in Nottingham. It had first been 
seen by a burial party at twilight flitting about on the 
high bold knoll above the vaults. The most of the 
party fled in terror, calling it the ghost of Robin 
Hood. But there were some learned and thoughtful 
gentlemen in the party, and they determined to get 
at the truth ; these hastily returned to the spot, 
bringing the best men of the city with them to see 
this remarkable sight. 


ROBIN hood’s ghost. 


'57 


As they came up, breathless and eager, they saw 
the white ghost still hovering and darting about over 
the hill above the vaults. For the most part it 
seemed to glide close down to the ground, as if on its 
hands and feet. Then it would start up, strike out 
wildly with its slim white arms, and then sink down 
and for a moment disappear entirely. 

The next night the same remarkable sight was 
seen by thousands. The poor ghost did not speak 
or make any sound at all. But somehow the fright- 
ened inhabitants of Nottingham got it into their 
heads that it was suffering great pain. 

As the nights wore on, some of the boldest citi- 
zens resolved to push their investigation to the 
extreme and find out certainly the facts. They ad- 
vanced in a body. The ghost fled over the hill, but 
was finally seen to appear at the end of the carriage 
wall and pass on up among the vaults. 

The pursuing party divided, some entering at one 
end of the deep carriage way and some at the other. 
As they came upon the ghost down the deep cut 
in the solid rock from either side, it darted into 
an old vault. The boldest hesitated to follow it 


'58 


ROBIN HOOD S GHOST. 


here. But before leaving they made careful note of 
the poor ghost’s favorite hiding place, resolved to get 
at his secret the following night. 

Of course the news had got to London by this 
time; and being so well authenticated^ the whole city 
was excited. 

Charles Dickens, Mr. Thackeray, and many others, 
some of whom are still living, and from one of whom 
I got these facts, hastened out to Nottingham to see 
the ghost. 

Of course the peasants and common people were 
thoroughly frightened by this time and kept away ; 
but the party from London were resolved to see 
for themselves. They went into the old vault as 
night came on, and sat down to wait for the ghost. 

The party of the night before, using their same 
tactics, drew the poor ghost from the hill as soon as 
it appeared there, and made jt take to the deep 
carriage cut as before. Then closing in from both 
ways with torches and lanterns, it fled frightened into 
the old vault where a somewhat terrified party 
crouched in the dark waiting for it. The two ladies 
screamed and then fainted. The men jumped up 


ROBIN hood’s ghost. 


159 


and tumbled over each other, while the poor ghost 
scrambled up to the highest coffin and stood there 
trembling and shaking till its little feet beat a 
strange tattoo on the dry old oaken lid of some 
ancient baron. The men got to their feet as fast as 
they could, and catching up their lanterns, held them 
high up over their heads and looked at the ghost. 
It was a sheep ! 

They pulled Robin Hood’s ghost down ‘from his 
high place in a hurry, for they were very angry and 
impatient at being hoaxed by a sheep. And the 
ladies who were quite ashamed at having fainted, 
caught hold of him and began to pull his wool and 
shake him heartily. But when they found he was 
only skin and bone they began to feel sorry and 
to try to find out what was the matter with him. 

And what do you think ! why, the poor thing had 
been licking and nosing an old tin can and got it, 
fast over its upper jaw. Then the flesh had swollen 
and it would not come off, paw and plunge and dig 
with his slim fore legs, and claw with his hind one^, 
as he might. And as you know, or at least ought to 
know, a sheep, nor indeed any cloven -footed creature 


l6o ROBIN hood's ghost. 

that chews the cud, has any upper teeth on its fore 
jaw, and so as it could neither bite it off, nor paw it 
off, nor kick it off, the poor creature was dying, 
crazy from pain and hunger and fright. 

Of course they relieved the wretched creature, and 
in a few moments it was nibbling at the grass. But 
no one ever wrote up the facts, I think. I think, 
as the lady who told me the story said, they all felt 
a little bit sheepish about it. 

I have ventured to tell it because in the first place 
it is quite harmless, and in the second place I wish 
to impress you with this solid truth, that all ghosts 
have no more foundation in fact than had this famous 
Robin Hood’s ghost. 


SELF-COMPETITION. 

A storm and a river ran a race. The storm chafed the river 
and passed on, while the water grew calm behind it. The 
faster the storm moved down stream the faster the river 
chafed, keeping pace with the storm’s progress, until when the 
storm reached the sea it found the river there before it. “ I 
find,” said the storm, “ that I have only been running a race 
with myself.” 


EVAN COGSWELL’S ICE 
FORT. 


TN the early days of Northern Ohio, when settlers 
were few and far between, Evan Cogswell, a 
Welsh lad of sixteen years, found his way thither and 
began his career as a laborer, receiving at first but 
two dollars a month in addition to his board and 
“home-made” clothing. Repossessed an intelligent, 
energetic mind in a sound and vigorous body, and 
had acquired in his native parish the elements of an 
education in both Welsh and English. 

The story of his life, outlined in a curious old 
diary containing the records of sixty-two years, and 
an entry for more than twenty-two thousand days, 
would constitute a history of the region, and some of 
its passages would read like high-wrought romance. 

His first term of service was with a border farmer 
on the banks of a stream called Grand River, in Ash- 


i 62 


EVAN Cogswell’s ice fort. 


tabula County. It was rather crude farming, how- 
ever, consisting mostly of felling trees, cutting wood 
and saw-logs, burning brush, and digging out stumps, 
the axe and pick-axe finding more use than ordinary 
farm implements. 

Seven miles down the river, and on the opposite 
bank, lived the nearest neighbors, among them a 
blacksmith who in his trade served the whole country 
for twenty miles around. One especial part of his 
business was the repairing of axes, called in that day 
“ jumping,” or “ upsetting.” 

In midwinter Evan’s employer left a couple of axes 
with the blacksmith for repairs, the job to be done 
within a w'eek. At this time the weather was what is 
termed “settled,” with deep snow, and good “slip- 
ping ” along the few wildwood roads. 

But three or four days later, there came a “Janu- 
ary thaw.” Rain and a warmer temperature melted 
away much of the snow, the little river was swelled to 
a great torrent, breaking up the ice and carrying it 
down stream, and the roads became almost impas- 
sible. When the week was up and the farmer wanted 
the axes, it was not possible for the horse to travel, 


EVAN Cogswell’s ice fort. 163 

and after waiting vainly a day or two for a turn in 
the weather, Evan was posted off on foot to obtain 
the needed implements. Delighting in the change 
and excitement of such a trip, the boy started before 
noon, expecting to reach home again ere dark, as it 
was not considered quite safe to journey far by night 
on account of the wolves. 

Three miles below, at a narrow place in the river, 
was the bridge, consisting of three very long tree- 
trunks reaching parallel from bank to bank, and cov- 
ered with hewn plank. When Evan arrived here he 
found that this bridge had been swept away. But 
pushing on down stream among the thickets, about 
half a mile below, he came upon an immense ice-jam, 
stretching across the stream and piled many feet high. 
Upon this he at once resolved to make his way over 
to the road on the other side, for he was already 
wearied threading the underbrush. Grand River, 
which is a narrow but deep and violent stream, ran 
roaring and plunging beneath the masses of ice as if 
enraged at being so obstructed ; but the lad picked 
his path in safety and soon stood on the opposite 
bank. 


64 


EVAN Cogswell’s ice fort. 


Away he hurried now to the blacksmith’s, so as to 
complete his errand and return by this precarious 
crossing before dark. 

But the smith had neglected his duty and Evan 
had to wait an hour or more for the axes. At length 
they were done, and with one tied at each end of a 
strong cord and this hung about his neck, he was off 
on the homeward trip. To aid his walking, he pro- 
cured from the thicket a stout cane. He had hardly 
gone two miles when the duskiness gathering in the 
woods denoted the nearness of night; yet as the 
moon was riding high, he pushed on without fear. 

But as he was skirting a wind-fall of trees, he came 
suddenly upon two or three wolves apparently emerg- 
ing from their daytime hiding-place for a hunting ex- 
pedition. Evan was considerably startled : but as 
they ran olf into the woods as if afraid of him, he 
took courage in the hope that they would not molest 
him. In a few minutes, however, they set up that 
dismal howling by which they summon their mates 
and enlarge their numbers ; and Evan discovered by 
the sounds that they were following him cautiously at 
no great distance. 


EVAN Cogswell’s ice fort. 165 

Frequent responses were also heard from more 
distant points in the woods and from across the river. 
By this time it was becoming quite dark, the moon- 
light penetrating the forest only along the roadway 
and in occasional patches among the trees on either 
side. The rushing river was not far away, but above 
its roar arose every instant the threatening howl of a 
wolf. Finally, just as he reached the ice-bridge, 
the howling became still, a sign that their numbers 
emboldened them to enter in earnest on the pursuit. 
The species of wolf once so common in the 
central States, and making the early farmers so 
much trouble, were peculiar in this respect ; they 
were great cowards singly, and would trail the heels 
of a traveller howling for recruits, and not daring 
to begin the attack until they had collected a force 
that insured success; then they became fierce and 
bold, and more to be dreaded than any other 
animal of the wilderness. And at this point, when 
they considered their numbers equal to the 
occasion, the howling ceased. 

Evan had been told of this, and when the 
silence began, he knew its meaning, and his 


i66 


EVAN COGSWELL’S ICE FORT. 


heart shuddered at the prospect. His only hope 
lay in the possibility that they might not dare 
to follow him across the ice-bridge. But this 
hope vanished as he approached the other shore, 
and saw by the moonlight several of the gaunt crea- 
tures awaiting him on that side. What should he do ? 
No doubt they would soon muster boldness to follow 
him upon the ice, and then his fate would be sealed 
in a moment. 

In the emergency he thought of -the axes, and 
taking them from his neck, cut the cord, and thrust 
his walking-stick into one as a helve, resolved to 
defend himself to the last. 

At this instant he espied among the thick, 
upheaved ice-cakes two great fragments leaning 
against each other in such a way as to form a 
roof with something like a small room underneath. 
Here he saw his only chance. Springing within, he 
used the axe to chip off other fragments with which 
to close up the entrance, and almost quicker than 
it can be told, had thus constructed a sort of fort, 
which he believed would withstand the attack of 
the wolves. At nightfall the weather had become 


EVAN Cogswell’s ice fort. 


167 


colder, and he knew that in a few minutes the damp 
pieces of ice would be firmly cemented together. 

Hardly had he lifted the last piece to its place, 
when the pack came rushing about him, snapping 
and snarling, but at first not testing the strength 
of his intrenchment. When soon they began to 
spring against it, and snap at the corners of 
ice, the frost had done its work, and they could 
not loosen his hastily built wall. 

Through narrow crevices he could look out at them, 
and at one time counted sixteen grouped together 
in council. As the cold increased he had to keep 
in motion in order not to freeze, and any extra 
action on his part increased the fierceness of the 
wolves. At times they would gather in a circle 
around him, and after sniffing at him eagerly, set up 
a doleful howling, as if deploring the excellent supper 
they had lost. 

Ere long one of them found an opening at a 
corner large enough to admit its head ; but Evan 
was on the alert, and gave it such a blow with the 
axe as to cause its death. Soon another tried the 
same thing, and met with the same reception, with- 


i68 


EVAN Cogswell’s ice fort. 


drawing and whirling around several times, and 
then dropping dead with a broken skull. 

One smaller than the rest attempting to enter, 
and receiving the fatal blow, crawled, in its dying 
agony, completely into the enclosure, and lay dead 
at Evan’s feet. Of this he was not sorry, as his feet 
were bitterly cold, and the warm carcass of the animal 
served to relieve them. 

In the course of the night six wolves were killed 
as they sought to creep into his fortress, and several 
others so seriously hacked as to send them to the 
woods again ; and however correct the notion that 
when on the hunt they devour their fallen* comrades, 
in this case they did no such thing, as in the morn- 
ing the six dead bodies lay about on the ice, and 
Evan had the profitable privilege of taking off their 
skins. 

Of his thoughts during the night, a quotation from 
his diary is quaintly suggestive and characteris- 
tic : 

“ I bethought me of the wars of Glendower, which 
I have read about, and the battle of Grosmont Castle ; 
and I said, ‘I am Owen Glendower; this is my castle; 


EVAN Cogswell’s ice fort. 


169 


the wolves are the army of Henry ; but I will never 
surrender or yield as did Glendower.’ ” 

Toward morning, as the change of weather con- 
tinued, and the waters of the river began to diminish, 
there was suddenly a prodigious crack and crash of 
the ice-bridge, and the whole mass settled several 
inches. At this the wolves took, alarm, and in an 
instant fled. Perhaps they might have returned had 
not the crackling of the ice been repeated fre- 
quently. 

At length Evan became alarmed for his safety, 
lest the ice should break up in the current, and 
bringing his axe to bear, soon burst his way out and 
fled to the shore. But not seeing the ice crumble, he 
ventured back to obtain the other axe, and then 
hastened home to his employer. 

During the day he skinned the wolves, and within 
a fortnight pocketed the bounty money, amounting 
in all to about one hundred and fifty dollars. With 
this money he made the first payment on a large 
farm which he long lived to cultivate and enjoy, and 
under the sod of which he found a quiet grave. 


CANDLE ENDS. 



NCE upon a time, when the Boston you know 


was half under water, and the city could still 
be well described as Trimountain, before Beacon Hill 
had lost its beacon, and Copp’s Hill and Fort Hill 
were realities and not memories, the centre of fashion 
was as nearly as possible where is now the centre of 


trade. 


It is hard for you to realize that elegant dwelling- 
houses, really stately mansions and lovely gardens 
stood where Franklin street and Summer street ware- 
houses stretch up to the sky; that there was a park 
in Franklin street, and your grandfathers played under 
the shady trees, where now drays and horse-cars 
block the way. High street and Federal, South and 
Purchase — who can think of cosey firesides and 
princely homes in that vicinity.^ Yet the Grays and 


CANDLE ENDS. 


171 

Brookses, the Torreys and the Shaws, the Phillipses 
and Appletons, and many other well-known Bosto- 
nians, had their home within a stone’s throw from 
whi^h this is written. Just off of Summer street 
on High street, stood a block of brick houses: 
in one of them Daniel Webster lived, I think, and in 
another Mr. Enoch Train, whose daughter, Mrs. Whit- 
ney, is so deservedly your favorite. In that same 
block lived your grandmother; almost every bit of 
furniture in this cosey of mine was once a part of 
that house-furnishing, and had come, long before, 
from across the water in her mother’s bridal 
outfit. 

The rooms were sombre; for the wainscotings 
were heavy and dark, and the furniture as substantial 
and severely dignified as oak and mahogany can be. 
The only token of triviality, the only attempt at 
brightness (if one excepted the brass handles and 
corner trimmings on the book-cases and commodes), 
was the row of candelabra on the high mantel. I 
think grandmother at one time had some doubts about 
their being consistent in the parlor of a “ professor; ” 
but then Dr. Wisnar had a set, and the crystal 


172 


CANDLE ENDS. 


chandelier in the Old South was certainly quite as 
worldly, and they might in a sense help one to become 
a ‘‘bright and shining light;” so when grandpa 
insisted on the purchase, grandma “ accepted the 
circumstance,” as our dear Mr. Hale would say, and 
bustled round to have them in place against the next 
tea-party of the Old South sewing-circle, which in 
those days met round at the different houses. 

It was a day’s work, I had almost said a week’s 
work, to get ready for a tea-party in those times. 
Every old lady delegated one eye, at least, to the 
duty of spying into every nook and corner of the 
house, and mentally noting any spot of dust, darn or 
scratch, anything missing or new since last sewing- 
circle; the other eye was quite enough to superintend 
the flannel under-petticoats and blue-yarn stockings 
that swelled the charity pile of the O. S. S. C. Not 
that there could be much danger of spying dust, darns 
or scratches in grandmother’s house, for she was 
truly notable; but she did delight in always having 
something new to set the gossips at work upon. 

I can imagine the smile on her comely face as 
she removed the soft wrappings from brass and 


CANDLE ENDS. 


173 


ormolu, dusted invisible particles from the deep 
scrolls and leaves, polished, one by one, the crystal 
drops and linked them together, till the long glitter- 
ing pendants hung in a rainbow fringe round each 
standard, and set deep into the metal cups the pretty 
glass frames to hold the candles and catch the hot 
wax. One sigh escaped her matronly breast as she 
thought how lovely it would be if she had some pretty 
English wax candles such as her mother used to burn, 
instead of the common white ones; but she would 
not ask father to spend another cent, and the white 
ones would burn as well; anyway, the candelabra 
were handsomer than any others in the society. 

Lorrie and Harry had been intently watching the 
enchanting process. More than once had the little 
hands been rapped for daring to set the glass drops 
ringing, exactly as you love to do to-day, Helen. 
Suddenly a loud rat-tat-tat the brass knocker startled 
guilty Harry in the midst of a sly attempt to give one 
more surreptitious jingle, and every pendant on the 
candelabra began to swing and ring with a vigor that 
threatened to shiver them. To escape comment, Harry 
slipped into the hall and opened the door. There 


174 


CANDLE ENDS. 


Stood a small boy with a large box, addressed plainly 
in grandpa’s writing. 

Knots were quickly untied, the cover raised, and 
there, on layers of cotton-wool, were the loveliest 
English candles, wax of course, in exquisite tints of 
sea green, pale rose pink and pearl ! six dozens ! 
enough to fill the candelabra six times! 

If grandma wasn’t proud when each socket was 
filled and her mantel-piece received its crowning 
glory, she never looked more like it. Even Harry’s 
misdeeds were forgotten. 

I should like to describe that tea-party, with the 
stiff brocades and leg-o’-mutton sleeves and the 
muslin shoulder-capes and the narrow silk sewing 
aprons, and the fingerless mitts that the old ladies 
wore; — the scanty sprigged muslins and lace tuckers, 
silk stockings and low slippers with broad ribbons 
banded over the instep that the young ladies wore; 
the blue coats and brass buttons, the frilled shirt- 
fronts and yellow vests, the high stocks and volumi- 
nous neckerchiefs (a whole square yard of silk folded 
to make a tie!) that the gentlemen- wore. I would 
like to show you the way tea was served in those 


CANDLE ENDS. 


^75 


days : huge waiters carried round, laden with cakes 
and sandwiches and tarts, coffee and tea, blanc- 
manges and jellies, nut custards and whips ! They 
were sturdy arms that could carry such trays, but cus- 
tom made the cumbrous fashion seem fit and proper. 

The pink and green and pearl candles, of course, 
were lit and elicited due admiration and envy, and 
the evening was an undoubted success. 

When the last guest had departed, each candle 
was carefully snuffed with the big silver snuffers, and 
then snuffed out. In the morning the half-burned 
candles were laid away in the box, and fresh ones 
put in their places ; for never must a candle in the 
best parlor look as if it had been burnt ! 

Gradually, as the years rolled on, the pile of candle 
ends increased ; but before the last set had come 
into use, sudden illness broke up the household in 
High street ; the Lares and Penates were removed 
to a grim store-house, and it was many years 
before the hearth-fire was again lit. When, after long 
years, Lorrie was grown up and married, it seemed a 
pity not to look up the old house-furnishings and put 
them in use again. 


176 


CANDLE ENDS. 


Times had changed, and fashions had changed ; 
andirons and candlesticks had gone out, gas and 
furnaces have come in ; black walnut had taken the 
place of mahogany, the South End had been created, 
and High street was a business street. 

It was a curious blending in the midst of the new, 
fresh house-fittings to have so much of the old ; but 
grandma was loyal to the old loves, and wouldn’t 
quite give them up. So, in spite of low grumblings 
from grandpa, who liked everything fresh and new 
and bright and modern, the old furniture was ex- 
humed, and, I grieve to say, modernized ! Marble 
tops replaced the branch mahogany tops, wooden 
handles the. swinging brasses, and every other pos- 
sible bit of vandalism was perpetrated. Fortunately, 
all the “ old junk,” as the upholsterer disrespectfully 
termed it, was tipped into a box and stored in a corner 
of the attic, and, I am happy to say, has since been 
restored to its primitive state. 

How grandpa shouted when he came to the can- 
delabra and the box of candle ends ! You see, the 
packing away had been meant for a year, and had 
lasted over twenty-five. “ Do throw those away, 


CANDLE ENDS. 


177 

mother, or give them to the furnace-man to burn in 
the cellar ! ” 

“ Not I, father ! They’ll be of use yet when 
I’m dead and gone, maybe. So long as they’re not 
in your way you needn’t be troubled.” 

Where the offending box went to, no one knew ; 
the candelabra were permitted to stand candleless 
in a dark corner of the library, where they were my 
secret admiration. I could always quiet baby by 
carrying her to them, and a tiny chime on the glass 
drops would stop the hardest fit of crying. 

The years rolled by. Grandpa’s great warehouse 
stood across the street from his old home on High 
street, and morning and night he rode at least two 
miles back and forth from his office to his house. 

You, all three, are old enough to remember the great 
fire ; at least you know about it. Long before that 
time grandma had gone to her long rest, but grandpa 
was still active and busy. The night of the fire has 
been described too often for me to rehearse it again. 
We were so far away, and communication so impos- 
sible on account of the epizootic among the horses, 
that, although we knew it was a terrible fire, and we 


CANDLE ENDS. 


178 

had watched the grand sight nearly all night from 
the roof-top, we never dreamed that we too were 
among the sufferers. Not till grandpa, with his 
usual punctuality, was starting for church, did the 
news reach him of his own heavy loss. Only a heap 
of ashes to mark his stately, well-stocked warehouse ! 
But a common calamity is sometimes easier to bear 
than an individual one ; and, like all the rest, he met 
his bravely and cheerily. 

A second fire Sunday night completed the destruc- 
tion of the previous night, and the calamity, dreaded 
by all, was inevitable — a dark city ; all gas cut off, 
for fear of explosions. 

Happy were those who heard in time to supply 
themselves, like the wise virgins of old, with oil for 
their lamps, and candles of any sort, against the 
coming winter night. 

By the time we heard the news, every store far and 
near had been searched ; not a drop of oil, not a 
candle, to be had for love or money ! One miserable 
tallow stick I bought for seventy-five cents. There 
was a prospect ! a big house full of children and 
grown folks, a long winter night, and one tallow dip 


CANDLE ENDS. 


179 


in lieu of the blaze of light that ahvays marked our 
house. 

A sudden inspiration came to me. I remembered, 
as in a dream, the good-natured quarrel about the 
candle ends, so long ago. Oh, if by any chance our 
careful Martha had really hoarded those precious 
bits all these years! Where, where, in that great 
house, in what trunk or closet, in what box or drawer, 
would they be 1 

It was already dusk, and the great upper store- 
room was an uncanny place; by what good genius 
I was directed I know not, as I dived and plunged 
into unfamiliar recesses, and opened bags and emp- 
tied barrels. Down in the very bottom of a great 
chest filled with magazines and pamphlets, securely 
hidden, was the precious box ! I could have cried 
for joy. 1 kissed and hugged it in the dark, and then 
marched in triumph down stairs. 

In less time than I take to tell it, a generous candle 
end filled each socket of each candelabra. Parlor, 
dining-room and hall were bright — so bright that 
the door-bell rang incessantly to know how it hap- 
pened that we had gas! Every one had a chamber 


i8o 


CANDLE ENDS. 


candle stuck in a bottle-neck ! We revelled in our 
wealth ! 

There was a bit of irony in the fate that kept the 
useless candle ends that had been half burned in one 
side of High street, to lighten our darkness by their 
other halves when ail we owned was consumed by 
fire on the other side of High street a long genera- 
tion later. 

It was that evening that grandpa told me of the 
first lighting of those candles whose later end 
I have been describing. 

“ And where did these pretty candles come from ? ’’ 
asks one of my listeners, pointing up to the old can- 
delabra. 

“ Oh, they were some of the original lot. Under 
the layers of half-burned candles I found one per- 
fectly fresh dozen, and when I fitted up my cosey in 
my tiny new home, I mounted the candles in their 
old places. I love to watch them twinkle and sparkle 
in the firelight. They always seem like bright hap- 
py eyes. It seems as if they too were half con- 
scious of all the changes, and were glad after many 
days to have returned to their first estate. 


A MERCANTILE TRANSAC- 
TION. 



HEN I was a child a gentleman gave me 


a gold dollar ; and most highly did I prize 


the little beauty. There is something in a gold 
or silver coin which naturally impresses a child 
that it is a thing of value as well as of beauty; a 
something which its paper representative does not 
possess. My gold dollar though no larger than the 
little three-cent piece, was worth a hundred cents — a 
mysterious quality which ! could not quite understand. 

But it lacked one thing; it was unproductive. As 
long as it lay in the bureau drawer, it was a gold dol- 
lar, and nothing more. My father had given me a cor- 
ner in the garden, where by planting a few ears of pop 
corn, I obtained a winter’s supply of that desirable 
article. My mother also had some sheep which she 
“ let out to double ” once in four years, with the 
proceeds of which she supplied us with spending 
money. 


i 82 


A MERCANTILE TRANSACTION. 


But my gold dollar would neither grow nor double ; 
and I sought for some means to increase it. My 
only experience in mercantile transactions was with 
the corner grocer who sold candy for a cent a stick. 
At length by diligent inquiries I learned that candy 
could be bought at the market town much cheaper ; 
that a pound which contained forty or fifty sticks, cost 
only twenty-five cents. 

Here was an idea ; I could buy it by the pound 
and retail it for a cent a stick, and double my money. 
So I prevailed upon my father to invest part of my 
gold dollar in candy, and I set to work to build a 
store. With this work I was familiar, for I had built 
many stores when there was no prospect of goods or 
customers. But now I resolved to build on a scale 
worthy of the occasion. With great labor and pains 
it was at last constructed. It stood by the fence 
facing the lane. To be sure there were no travellers 
that way, but I knew I could drum up customers 
when the goods should arrive. Soon they came, two 
pounds of delicious candy. I could hardly realize 
that it was mine. But though I felt very rich as the 
possessor of such stock of sweetness, I with great 


A MERCANTILE TRANSACTION. 1 83 

effort refrained from consuming it, for was not this a 
business transaction ? and I had an eye to the 
profits. In order to make my display perfectly irre- 
sistable, I expended the remainder of my capital in 
maple sugar, which I melted up and cast into beauti- 
ful scalloped cakes, in size to suit the purchaser. 
And the genuine article it was. It was not like the 
little yellow cubes sold on city corners, called maple 
sugar, but in reality a vile compound of molasses and 
sugar-barrel scrapings, which the unsuspecting city 
children devour under the delusion that it is the deli- 
cious products of the maple-tree. 

The day of the grand opening arrived. It had 
been judiciously advertised in the right quarters 
without any expenditure of printers’ ink, or ringing of 
auction bell. I soon had all the youngsters in town 
gathered around gazing upon my immense stock of 
consolidated sweetness, carefully examining the 
goods, inquiring the prices, and wondering how I 
could have become the possessor of such an amount 
of candy and sugar. I walked up and down behind 
my counter of unplaned boards, surveying my stock 
and store with modest pride, arranging it to the best 


184 


A MERCANTILE TRANSACTION. 


advantage, answering questions and inviting the by- 
standers to walk up and purchase. Here, thought I, 
is a fine beginning for business. Here is the store 
and the goods, and here are the customers ready and 
anxious to buy. 

But there was one small impediment. In order to 
complete the transfer of the candy and sugar cakes 
from my counter to the purchaser’s mouths, an 
equivalent was necessary; namely, one cent. One by 
one the customers came up, examined, priced — and 
fell back. They had not the necessary one cent. 
And soon, to my great disappointment, it became 
evident that there was not one in the whole crowd 
who possessed that bit of copper. 

Gradually, after finding that I meant business and 
could not allow my goods to be “ sampled,” the 
crowd of would-be buyers disappeared and I was 
left alone, undisputed possessor of all I surveyed. 
Yet I was not happy. This was not business. I was 
about to put up the shutters and retire from trade, 
when a new customer appeared and taught me how 
to do business without money. It was the village 
bully. Deacon Dump. With a most engaging air and 


A MERCANTILE TRANSACTION. 


85 


patronizing manner, he approached, praised my store, 
examined my stock, and finally inquired the price of 
a sugar cake. “ One cent,” was the prompt reply. 

“All right,” said he. “I haven’t got the money 
to-day, but I’ll pay you to-morrow. You trust, don’t 
you ? ” 

The feasibility of doing business on the credit 
system had not occurred to me ; but from what I 
knew of the character of my customer, I declined to 
trust him. 

“You can’t sell unless you trust,” replied he; “be- 
sides, you needn’t trust others if you don’t want to ; 
but just trust me this time, and I’ll pay you to-morrow 
sure, ’pon my word and honor. My mother promised 
me a cent for being good to-day,” added he with a 
sanctimonious look, “ and don’t you believe my 
mother 1 ” 

I did not venture to doubt his mother’s word, but 
still I declined to deliver the goods on credit. But 
all the afternoon he hung around, begging and prom- 
ising, until not knowing how to get away from him, 
and being really anxious to sell, I let him have the 
cake, on his solemn promise to pay the next day. 


i86 


A MERCANTILE TRANSACTION. 


This was a beginning of business, to be sure ; yet 
I passed an anxious night thinking of the money 
which was owing me, and early next morning sought 
my debtor and demanded payment. The humble 
pleader of the previous day was a changed individ- 
ual. With an easy air he put me off, saying, “ I will 
pay you to-morrow ! ” 

I could do nothing but wait for the morrow. The 
next day I again asked my due. Again he replied 
“to-morrow,” with a knavish laugh which gave me 
little hope, yet the next day I applied again. He 
had become tired of that, and now he declared that 
he would not pay, and if ever I asked him for it again 
he threatened to give me the biggest “licking” I 
ever had in my life, and began to make gestures for 
putting it into immediate execution ; such that I was 
glad to escape without my money. 

Thus I learned of one way of paying debts. 

But I had another lesson still to learn in commer- 
cial affairs. I had sold a few cents worth of candy, 
and began to have some hopes of success, when an 
opposition establishment opened across the way. 
Jack Shepherd, my neighbor, whose father was a mer- 


A MERCANTILE TRANSACTION. 


187 


chant, determined not to be outdone in enterprise, 
had opened a store for the sale of what, the world 
was informed by large straggling letters on a shingle 
nailed to the fence, was : 

Genuine, 

Permanine, 

Currant Wine. 

This stroke of advertising drew immensely. What 
the second word in the advertisement meant, no one 
could tell; but the last word was sweet in the memory 
of every youngster who had taken sumptuous tastes 
of that liquid stored in the cellar for extra use. 

I saw at once that I must be equally enterprising 
or give up business. So that evening I set my wits at 
work to devise an equally poetical sign. 

“ Candy sweet,” I began easily enough, for the 
adjective is unalterably linked to that noun ; but 1 
must have three rhymes ; and not, like my neighbor, 
having sufficient ingenuity to invent a new word, I 
was at a loss. At length after great cogitation I pro* 
duced another : “ That can’t be beat — 

Candy sweet, 

That can’t be beat. 


1 88 A MERCANTILE TRANSACTION. 

That sounded well, and as for violating a rule of 
grammar in my verb, I felt no compunctions ; for I was 
yet in blissful ignorance of those snares for youthful 
tongues. 

So I went on 

And maple sugar. 

There I stopped. 1 could not find another word 
to rhyme and yet apply to maple sugar ; and as for 
omitting mention of that staple of my stock, it was out 
of the question. 

• ^ Candy sweet, 

That can’t be beat, 

And maple sugar — 

I repeated it over and over as I rolled from one 
side of my bed to the other, beating my brains in vain 
for the other word. At last tired nature came to my 
relief and carried me off to the land of sleep. When 
I arose in the morning, there was the unfinished sign 
that would not down. Suddenly an inspiration came 
upon me ; I seized a piece of board, and wrote in my 
boldest hand : 

Candy sweet, 

That can’t be beat. 

And maple sugar. Treat. 


A. MERCANTILE TRANSACTION. 


189 


Here was triumph. I had the three rhymes ; but 
what relation the last word, treaty had to the 
others, was a question I did not stop to answer. 
Whether it meant that my customers were to walk up 
and treat themselves, or whether I was to treat them, 
was all unexplained. That could be done in words. 

The sign was posted opposite to that of my compet- 
itor’s. But the customers after puzzling over my 
poetry and casting a longing look at my sweets, passed 
over and gathered around the store of my rival where 
“Genuine, permanine, currant wine ” disappeared with 
alarming rapidity into the mouths of the young patrons. 
My counter was almost deserted notwithstanding the 
attractions of my new poetical sign. 

I soon discovered the cause : A currency was in 
circulation on that side of the street cheaper than 
mine, and consequently carrying all the business on. 
It was pins. Long pins and short pins, straight pins 
and crooked pins, new pins and old pins — all were 
taken in exchange for a mixture of water, sugar and 
currant juice called “ Genuine, permanine, currant 
wine.” Here was another idea. I saw’ that I must 
conform to the laws of trade, or give up business, so 


1 90 A MERCANTILE TRANSACTION. 

I took the former alternative and began to shout : 

Candy sweet, 

That can’t be beat, 

For ten pins a stick 
And maple sugar treat, 

All complete, 

For one pin a lick I 

I soon perceived that I had struck the popular 
heart. My counter was surrounded by ready buyers, 
and I was busy taking and counting pins for candy 
and watching the poorer youngsters to see that they 
did not take more than one lick of sugar for one pin. 

Those were prosperous times. Never were pins in 
greater demand. The mothers’ supply of that useful 
article disappeared with mysterious quickness. One 
boy, having exhausted his mother’s stock, driven to 
his wits, ran into a neighbor’s house in great apparent 
agony and begged for two pins to pick a sliver out of 
his foot. My competitor’s counter was deserted, and, 
he became one of my best customers. 

Rapidly my stock decreased, and my pockets and 
coat sleeves were stuck full of pin currency. In 
truth they were so plentifully distributed about my 


A MERCANTILE TRANSACTION. 


IQT 


person that I dared not sit down, for fear of coming 
in contact with them. 

In the midst of my prosperity I became extrava- 
gant and crossed over to my rival’s shop and became 
the heaviest consumer of his liquid stock, while he in 
turn purchased more largely than ever of my sweets. 
The poor youths who had spent all their pins looked 
on in envy, while we swaggered and boasted of ouj 
riches, and occasionally patronized some of the smaller 
ones with a treat. I even became a buyer of some of 
my own goods from my rival, who had shrewdly ex- 
pended his whole quantity of pins in my candy. 
Business was never brisker than in Barn Lane that 
afternoon as we ran back and forth buying and con- 
suming each other’s merchandise. 

At length my stock of candy was nearly closed out, 
and my neighbor’s liquor exhausted, so business 
ceased. I closed up and sat down to count my 
profits. My gold dollar was expended, my candy 
and sugar were disposed of, and per co7itra I had 
about two hundred old rusty pins — and the stomach 
ache. The_pins were xiot now in use as money, and 
were worth in coin less than two cents. 


192 A MERCANTILE TRANSACTION. 

1 

I pondered long and seriously over this result, for 
it was a serious matter ; and it was long before I 
could discover the cause of the collapse. Then I 
concluded that specie was the best basis for business, 
and that I had no special talents for trade. This 
may account for my childish prejudice in favor of 
gold and silver. 


JAMES HENRY ON THE 
MASTODON. 


S the teacher wanted us all to write an exer- 



^ cise about the Mastodon that was dug up in our 
county last week, I guess I will. The county is Iro- 
quois County, Illinois. I never saw a Mastodon before. 
Rob Clark, and I, and a lot more boys, when we 
heard there was one dug up, we took my father’s 
horse and buggy and rode out to where it was. 

The men had put the bones in a corn-crib, and 
when I stepped in, I had to pay ten cents for the 
show, and I jumped right straight up, for there were 
his jaws that looked like they could eat a whale. 
The men measured the jaws. They were three feet 
long and two and a half feet wide. The Mastodon 









LOOKING PRETTY HUNGRY. 





JAMES HENRY ON THE MASTODON. 


195 


was dead. He had been dead a good many thousand 
years. If he had been alive, I wouldn’t gone into 
that corn-crib. guess they never hurt folks, though. 
There were no folks when they were alive. The 
Mastodon’s teeth were as big as our baby’s head, and 
one of them weighed six pounds. They were very 
white, only the old fellow had got a chunk of mud in 
one ridge. He had two little tusks sticking out of 
his chin. His big tusks had scaled off. If I saw a 
Texas steer coming at me with horns as big as his 
tusks, I would get on top of the house. They were 
nine feet long, and curved like the new moon. He 
wore them when he was alive like elephants always 
wear their tusks. But they were not fast to his jaws. 

The Mastodon was a great big elephant. I found 
a picture of one in the Cyclopaedia. The man said 
this Mastodon must have been thirteen or fourteen 
feet high. It must have looked like a house taking 

a walk. I never saw but one house take a walk, 

« 

and that was McCracken’s. They put it on rollers, 
and when they went to cross the railroad track, it 
stuck, and the cars came along. The cars had to 
stop. 


ig6 JAMES HENRY ON THE MASTODON. 

There were bushels and bushels of the Mastodon’s 
bones, some of them so big I could hardly lift them. 
The vertebrae of the spinal column were about as 
large as my head. There were two doctors in the 
corn-crib, writing down the size of everything, and I 
had a pencil and a piece of paper, so I wrote them 
down too. More folks kept coming all the time. 
Some of the bones were dark like soaked wood, but 
when you scratched them with your knife you would 
find how hard they were. Rob Clark and me got 
out of the corn-crib when it was crowded so we got 
pushed against the sides, and we went down in the 
field to see the hole, for they had not taken out all 
his bones yet. The men who found the Mastodon, 
did not know there was any there. They were going 
to put in drain tiles to drain a slew, and they dug up 
most of him about three feet from the top of the 
ground. I got a piece of bone to show. And my 
cousin when he came to visit us said, “ Behold, when 
this lump moved about with life, Adam was not yet 
dreamed of ! Races and empires have passed away 
since this old fellow laid his body in the swamp, 
and the earth’s post-glacial crust formed ovei 


JAMES HENRY ON THE MASTODON. 


197 


him.” He said a lot more that I can’t remember. 

The slew they found the Mastodon in was what 
you call a peat slew, and it keeps things a long time. 
Some State Society is going to buy it, but they won’t 
get the little chunk of bone I picked up, or the 
chunks I saw some other men carrying out of the 
field. I don’t care much about it myself, but my 
cousin he makes a fuss over it. When I go to col- 
lege, maybe I will think a good deal of bones ; but 
just now I think more of muscle. The muscle on 
my arm measures half an inch more than Rob 
Clark’s, and I can throw him down three times out 
of five at a good square rastle. [Yes, I can, too! I’ll 
show you after school.] 

Well, I can’t think of anything more about the 
Mastodon. They sent to the State University for 
a man to lecture about it. They are going to fix it 
so it will stand up. I went once with my father 
around the Lakes, and at one place I saw a ship that 
was not done yet. Its ribs all showed. I thought it 
looked hungry. And I think that Mastodon will look 
pretty hungry and hollow when they get its bones 
set up. So no more. 


JOHNNY PIG. 



ITTLE Johnny Eataway’s playmates called him 


^ “Johnny Pig and I don’t wonder that they 
did, for he was one of the greediest boys that ever 


lived. 


Almost every day when dinner was over, and he 
had eaten so much he could not eat any more, he 
would beg his mamma with a dreadful whine not to 
give what was left of the pudding or pie — which 
wasn’t much, I can assure you — to any one else, but 
to put it away in the closet so that he might “ eat it 
by and by.” 

And often he would stand for an hour at a time 
before the windows of the bakery or candy-store, 
with the tears running down his cheeks, in the deep- 
est grief because he could not eat everything he saw 
there. 


JOHNNY PIG. 


199 


And he would follow men who were selling fruit 
from street to street, just as other boys follow the 



JOHNNY PIG IS DISGUSTED. 


soldiers, or a monkey on a hand-organ, in hopes that 
at last, to get rid of him, they would give him an 
apple, or an orange, or a banana. 


200 


JOHNNY PIG. 


Well, late one very cloudy afternoon, Johnny Pig 
was coming from the druggist’s with a small bottle 
of paregoric for the baby, who had a pain (paregoric 
was the only thing that could be swallowed that he 
could be trusted with), when he saw a man in front 
of him carrying a basket half-full of pretty, pink 
paper packages. Johnny got as near as he could to 
this man and sniffed at the, basket. 

It smelled delicious ! Just like his mamma’s 
kitchen on cake-baking days. 

The man ran up every stoop, and rang every door- 
bell, and gave one of the packages to whoever came 
to the door. 

At last, Johnny Pig, who was by this time a mile 
from home and- it was fast getting dark, asked the 
man what they were. 

“ Cakes,” said the man. 

“Gimme one,” begged Johnny. 

“No,” said the man, “I don’t give them to boys. 

But Johnny kept following and teasing and teasing 
until the man — it was quite dark now — said, “Well, 
as I have only a few left and I want to go to my sup- 
per, you may have one.” 


JOHNNY PIG. 


201 


Johnny snatched it without even a thank-you 
(greedy boys are never polite), sat down on the near- 
est door-step, laid the bottle of paregoric by his side, 
tore off the pretty pink paper, and took a bite — a 
big bite. 

And then he jumped up, knocking over the bottle 
and breaking it into flinders, and stamped, and 
choked, and sputtered, and wiped -his mouth again and 
again on the sleeve of his new jacket. 

It was a cake of soap. 


GHOSTS I HAVE SEEN. 


T he first ghost I ever saw was when 1 was a 
boy of about fourteen. 

I was at the time a clerk in the wholesale com- 
mission establishment of a certain merchant, whom I 
will call Mr. Randolph, in a large southern city. 
Now I can imagine a Christian merchant of these 
better days in which we now live, standing in Mr. 
Randolph’s little boarded-off room in the back of 
his big store, and saying to him : 

“ Mr. Randolph, listen to me. The day will come 
when a mdVchant will look upon his clerks as some- 
thing superior to his dray-horses. In that day an 
employer will kindly interest himself as to where his 
young men spend their evenings and Sundays — ” 

“ What in the world — ” Mr. Randolph, if you 
can imagine such an interview, would interrupt him, 


GHOSTS I HAVE SEEN. 


203 


a frown upon his coarse, red face, “Why, what on 
earth — ” 

“In the coming time,” the visitor would go on 
saying, “ no establishment but will allow each of its 
clerks a vacation of from one to three weeks a year, 
generally in the summer; their salary continued, of 
course. The law will see to it that young people' 
at work have a sufficient time for schooling, but 
employers themselves will close up early of after- 
noons, especially on Saturdays, to give their people 
relaxation. In long-established banks, as well as 
in other institutions, a good dinner will be supplied 
in the basement every day, and at the expense of 
the house, so that the clerks can eat as well as work 
by system, and have no temptations to drink.” 

But at this point such a visitor would be driven 
out of Mr. Randolph’s store. 

“ You are yourself drunk or a madman ! ” my 
employer would have exclaimed, his red face glow- 
ing like a coal at the personality of the reference 
to liquor. 

I am mentioning this because, in fact, it is all in 
explanation of the ghost which will appear directly. 


204 


GHOSTS I HAVE SEEN. 


I want you to see how I was situated. There 1 was 
far away from my own people, no home after business 
hours but that huge, dirty old warehouse of a store. 
I could not afford to go to the theatre often, and 
when I did I saw things which disgusted me utterly. 
1 remember how long I was saving up until I got the 
silver coin necessary to a seat at what was glaringly 
advertised as “A gorgeous Christmas Pantomime.” 
How eagerly I looked forward to it. How early I 
was at the theatre. How vigorously I pushed my 
way to a good seat in the front. How unutterably I 
sickened of the tawdry display and unpleasant con- 
duct of the giants and fairies on the stage. I do not 
know to this day whether it was my stomach or 
my conscience, but I got sick and sicker, until at 
last I left the place before the spectacle was much 
more than well begun. Nor did I feel well again 
until I was safe under the cover in my bed, which 
was in the upper story of the old store, among boxes, 
bales, hogsheads and coils of rope. 

It may further explain the coming ghost if I say 
that I boarded at the house of my employer, Mr. 
Randolph. He must have lived two miles away ; up 


GHOSTS I HAVE SEEN. 


205 


hill to his house every foot of the road. It was so 
far, and I got so little to eat when I had toiled 
thither through the broiling sun in summer, and the 
snow or mud in winter, that very often I preferred to 
do without eating. Nobody ever missed me from ta- 
ble, at least ever asked particularly, after me. So that 
I did my work at the store, precious little they cared. 

I used to be very hungry. Flour was one of our 
articles on sale ; and of nights when particularly 
hungry, I would run into a barrel the long, hollow rod 
used for sampling the flour, until I had about double 
handful. Th'en I would mix this in the tin wash- 
basin, scrubbed out for the purpose, with a little lard 
and salt, and bake it on the stove. Somehow, the 
cake thus made was too much done on the outside 
and too little on the inside ; but I ate it, as people 
wrecked at sea sometimes do each other, even, I was 
so hungry. 

I remember, too, the drums of figs upon the top 
shelf on one side of the store. It was a consignment 
of which no one would purchase, long ago forgotten, 
covered with dust, every fig dry and hard. At times 
I had to eat some of them ; but the remorse of taking 


206 


GHOSTS I HAVE SEEN. 


what was not my own was worse than the pain under 
my jacket which was very sure to follow. 

In fact, I was in a tough school just then, and I 
fear many a poor fellow, even in these better days, is 
learning quite a number of hard lessons in like 
places. But I want to say very distinctly that it was 
not the fault of my parents. They lived far away, 
and supposed that I was learning to be a business 
man under excellent auspices, and I did not want to 
undeceive them. 

I am relating my experiences, then, for the first 
time in my life, at least on paper, and precisely as 
they were. Before going to Mr. Randolph’s I had 
read a good deal, and was, I suppose, of an ardent, 
affectionate nature. Except that, I took my life and 
whatever befell me, as I did the heat in summer or 
the bitter cold in winter, as something not to be 
helped. I hated it heartily. I was such a lonely boy, 
not a friend in reach of my own or of any other age. 
Ashamed as I am to say it, I very rarely went to 
church on Sundays. To do him justice, I must say 
that the minister, to whom my parents had carefully 
commended me, came to see me once at the store. 


GHOSTS I HAVE SEEN. 


20 / 


He was a very eloquent man, beautifully dressed, carry- 
ing a gold-headed cane, and he spoke to me very kindly 
during the five minutes of our interview. It was my own 
fault, I daresay, but we did not get near to or under- 
stand each other at all, somehow ; and the only thing 
I remembered after he was gone was how white and 
glossy his linen was ; a general idea of excessive 
polish from the soles of his boots to the top of his 
hat being my chief memory of the man. I could as 
soon have imagined him to be a giant or a sultan as 
to have thought of him as a shepherd endeavoring to 
care for a strayed lamb. I think that ministers as 
well as employers are closer to young people these 
days, as well as kinder. 

But the ghost ! 

One weary, dreary night I was alone, as usual, in 
the big old barn of a warehouse. I had been read- 
ing in Mr. Randolph’s back room on the first floor. 
Having occasion to go to my trunk, which was under 
my bed in the other end of the up-stairs story, I took 
the flat candlestick with its lighted candle, and went. 
That story was all in one, very large, all cluttered up 
with boxes, kegs, barrels, bundles of every sort. As I 


2o8 


GHOSTS I HAVE SEEN. 


closed my trunk and started to go back again, I saw — 

Now, all the value of what I say lies in its being 
literal fact. If you get Sir Walter Scott’s Demonology 
and Witchcraft — I think that is the name of the 
book — you will see many instances of “ocular de- 
lusions.” Years before, I had read the book, as well 
as heard our family physician explain similar cases, so 
that I understood it from the outset. 

As I started to return, I saw, about twenty feet be- 
fore me, a boy like myself walking away. He had a 
sealskin cap on exactly like my own, a rough sort of 
coat, also precisely like the one I wore, and in his 
hand he held the same kind of flat candlestick. He 
kept steadily before me as I walked the whole length 
of the long room, and I studied every detail of his 
appearance, only the back of the head being toward 
me, as I slowly walked. I had a sort of cold terror 
upon me, yet I knew it was my “ double,” and I also 
knew that it was only a delusion of the eyes or the 
digestion, in some way the result of my lonely and 
unwholesome way of living. It slowly descended the 
stairs at the other end of the room, and disappeared 
as I followed it down. 


GHOSTS I HAVE SEEN. 


209 


Even although I understood it in some measure, it 
was a shock to me. I assure you that I was very 
slow in going back to my bed that night ; but I saw 
it no more. 

Dr. Samuel Johnson said, when asked if he be- 
lieved in ghosts, “ No, sir. I have seen too many 
of them to believe in them ! ” 

But this is one, at least, of my experiences of 
ghosts. 


A LITTLE BOY’S NAP IN A 
CANNON. 


T^ERTIE had lived in a navy-yard before. He 
was born in the Norfolk Navy-yard, in Vir- 
ginia. His old nurse Dinah used to say : 

“ Massa Bertie am too proud to cry for a hurt. 
He born on Gub’ment groun’.” 

That this fact had anything to do with the forma- 
tion of his character is doubtful, but he was undeni- 
ably a brave little chap. 

I suppose his baby eyes looked wonderingly upon 
his surroundings in the Norfolk Yard, but they con- 
veyed no impression to his mind in the short year he 
spent there, and when eight years later his father 
was ordered to the Yard at Boston, Bertie had not 
the least idea what his new home would be like. 

Pleasant indeed he found it, however. The house, 
a large brown mansion, stood in a beautiful garden. 


A LITTLE boy’s NAP IN A CANNON. 


2II 


facing the city of Charlestown and Bunker Hill Mon- 
ument. From the rear was a view across the pleasant, 
trimly-kept Navy-yard, and down the glittering wate|p 
of the harbor where white-winged yachts skimmed 
along, steamers and ferry-boats churned the wate1*s, 
tug-boats puffed and toiled, and the Government ves- 
sels, steamships, men-of-war and iron-clad gun-boats 
rested quietly. 

Bertie, with his sister Susie, three years younger, 
soon explored every nook and corner of the busy 
Yard, from the watchmen’s sentry-boxes to the officers’ 
quarters. 

The dry-dock when a ship floated in to be repaired, 
was a great attraction. They liked to watch the 
great water-gates on the sea-wall slowly close as the 
ship passed through, shutting it a prisoner in the 
great stone dock ; then with intense interest they 
looked on while the water was pumped out by big 
steam-piimps ; and when the dock was dry, they 
stood leaning over the iron chains that fenced it 
around at the top, and gazed down upon the workmen 
as they walked about beneath inspecting the huge 


212 


A LITTLE boy’s NAP IN A CANNON. 


hull, or set to work upon the necessary repairs. When 
the ship was ready for sea-service again two small 
gates at the bottom of the great ones were opened. 
The water began to flow in slowly, steadily rising 
higher and higher until the dock was full. Then the 
great gates opened once more, and the ship floated 
out, ready for another voyage. 

From the sea-wall a flight of steps led down to a 
little floating wharf, between which and the receiving- 
ship a small ferry plied to and fro. 

The famous old Ohio was the receiving-ship when 
Bertie and Susie lived in the Navy-yard, and they 
were frequent passengers, going aboard to visit the 
officers, all of whom were friends of their father, and 
with whom they were great favorites. 

Quite near their house were the marine barracks, 
and they were often to be seen peeping through the 
palings, watching the drill. Susie was a little afraid 
of the stiff, straight men, but Bertie dearly loved to 
look at them, and became quite soldierly in his own 
bearing. 

Marines are sea-soldiers. They guard the gates of 


A LITTLE boy’s NAP IN A CANNON. 213 


the navy-yards, and when naval vessels go to sea a 
certain number of marines accompany each vessel to 
help in its defence if necessary. As their only 
duties are military, the sailors profess gieat contempt 
for them. One of their disdainful expressions is, 
“ Tell that to the marines ! ” 

The children thought it great fun, too, to run along 
the trim walks of the Yard, to visit the work-shops, 
the ship and storehouses, and the long straight rope- 
walk where miles upon miles of rope are made. The 
first time they went there Bertie put his hand upon a 
revolving rope as it twisted by him and lost the skin 
from his palm. It pained him smartly, but not a tear 
did he shed, and thus gained the respect of the rope- 
makers, who called him a “ young admiral.” All the 
workmen liked the children, particularly Bertie, who 
always had a string of questions to ask about what- 
ever interested him. They found that he remem- 
bered well what he was told, and was always polite 
and manly ; while Susie was a funny little girl, with 
ideas of her own on all subjects, and a curious habit 
of confounding words in very comical ways. 


214 


A LITTLE boy’s NAP IN A CANNON. 


Soon after their removal to the Navy-yard, the offi- 
cers of the Ohio^ hearing that the coming Fourth of 
July was Susie’s birthday, promised to give her a 
grand party on the old man-of-war. She was to 
invite all her own friends and Bertie’s, and all the 
children who lived in the Navy-yard. 

Great were the anticipations among the young 
folks. Nothing would they talk of for days but the 
approaching Fourth, and the officers themselves 
made many preparations. 

The morning of the important day dawned at 
last. Bertie, aroused by the snapping and banging, 
sprang from his bed to find a new gun, double-bar- 
reled, with ramrod and trigger complete, and ten 
boxes of banging caps. He dressed quickly and 
ran out with his treasure, aiming wherever his fancy 
stationed an enemy, and snapping caps with relent- 
less patriotism. 

Susie awoke mid the noise and clamor to find her- 
self the recipient of numerous birthday gifts, among 
which were two dolls, one a waxen beauty, and the 
other a sensible, every-day doll with three complete 


A LITTLE boy’s NAP IN A CANNON. 215 

sets of clothes and a Saratoga trunk for packing them. 

“This is a gutta-percha doll, and is indestructible,” 
said mamma. “ You will have fine times with her, 
Susie.” 

“ Yes, mamma,” answered the happy little girl. “ I’ll 
call the wax one Gertie Daley, because Admiral Daley 
sent her to me, and this one I will call Gertie Percha.” 

Mamma laughed, and the amused Commodore 
asked his little girl to take a walk with him before 
breakfast. 

“ Will you go to the Curiosity Shop ? ” asked Susie. 

“ The Curiosity Shop ! ” exclaimed her father, look- 
ing puzzled. “Why, where is that? ” 

“ Where the officers keep their toys,” replied the 
child, smiling, as she arrayed Miss Gertie Percha in 
her new hat and shawl. 

At this unexpected answer several officers who 
were present laughed heartily. 

“ Well, where do they keep their toys ? ” asked the 
Commodore. 

“ Why, in the Curiosity Shop, papa, where the ’nor- 


mous tod is.” 


2i6 a little boy’s nap in a cannon. 

“ And what in the world is a ^normotis tod ? ” asked 
her father, completely mystified. 

“ Why, just a great ’normous tod ; ” repeated Susie 
as obstinately as Wordsworth’s little maid said “ We 
are seven.” 

“ I guess you will have to take me to the Curiosity 
Shop, and show me the ‘ tod said her father ; and 
Susie running for her hat, led him across the Yard, 
followed by several of the officers who were anxious 
to see where “ their toys ” were kept. 

Skipping along with Gertie I .rcha under her arm 
and her hand in her father’s, she led the way to the 
Museum. No wonder the child had appropriated 
Dickens’ title for the place, and what should she con- 
sider its contents but toys? Unique little models, 
ivory images, little boats, tiny ships full-rigged, Jap- 
anese junks, Chinese idols, bows, arrows, guns, and 
other curiosities too numerous to mention, brought 
by sailors and officers from all parts of the world. 
The “ ’normous tod ” proved to be a huge tortoise 
which she thought was a toad. 

It was no easy matter to get the little maiden away 


A LITTLE boy's NAP IN A CANNON. 


21 / 


again, and when they got home at last breakfast was 
waiting for them and Bertie had not come in. 

“ Bertie, Bertie, Ber-//^./” Susie was calling half an 
hour later, and looking into every place she could 
think of. “ O, mamma, I cannot find him anywhere : 
neither can Dinah !” 

Vaguely alarmed, the Commodore’s wife sent all 
the servants in the house to look for the boy, while 
the Commodore instantly went to question the senti- 
nels. They were sure he had not left the Navy- 
yard ; he could not have passed any of the gates 
without being seen by them. 

Quickly the alarm spread ; officers, sailors, ma- 
rines and visitors were all searching for the lost boy 
— some, alas ! on the water, which danced and glis- 
tened so gayly in the sunlight , for one of the watch- 
men had seen a boy on the sea-wall an hour before. 
He thought he was going aboard the receiving-ship, 
but could not say and did not know if he were 
Bertie or not, but thought he was about Bertie’s size. 

Noon came, and still the search went on. Susie 


2I8 


A LITTLE boy’s NAP IN A CANNON. 


sobbed in her mother’s arms. The dinner-hour came 
and passed ; the afternoon was waning ; still the 
search went on. All hearts were filled with pity. 
Mothers clasped their children in their arms, thank- 
ful for their safety, for there was now a settled con- 
viction that little Bertie had fallen over the sea-wall. 

When Bertie ran out with his gun, he practised 
awhile in the garden, snapping caps and shooting 
darts. The delight of his heart was a gun. He had 
always admired the great cannon with their pyramids 
of balls stacked on the Navy-yard Common. With 
the spirit of independence full upon him, he entered 
the enclosure to compare his new gun with the cannon. 
He looked around ; not a soul was in sight. Neither 
of the sentinels nor any of the watchmen could see 
him where he stood beside the largest cannon in the 
Square. “I mean to look into it,” he said to him- 
self, and pried out the tompion which filled the mouth. 
It yielded so suddenly that he went over backwards. 
He was quickly on his feet, however, and kneeling 
down, peered into the great gun. 

“I wonder how many men you have killed?” he 


A LITTLE boy’s NAP IN A CANNON. 


219 


said gravely, addressing the monster; “hundreds, I 
dare say ; and now you cannot hurt a little boy like 
me. Do you ever long, old gun, for war-time ? I 
do believe I could crawl into you,” he added. “What 
a capital hiding-place.” 

Just then he heard some one call. It was Dinah, 
looking for him. 

“ I’ll hide ! ” he exclaimed ; “ what fun ! ” and 
suiting the action to the word, he squirmed into 
the gun. 

It did seem great fun for awhile to lie in hiding in 
so snug a place, though his limbs were cramped and 
he was nearly stifled. Dinah did not come as he 
expected, but went off in another direction ; and by 
and by Bertie thought he would go home and get 
ready for the balloon ascension and the sight-seeing 
in Boston. Then it was that he found to his horror 
and dismay that he could not get out. He had very 
broad shoulders, and they acted as a wedge. In 
vain he writhed and struggled and kicked. 

Bitterly he repented his naughtiness in getting into 
such a trap. Then he grew frightened, thinking he 


220 


A LITTLE boy’s NAP IN A CANNON. 


must die there, and burst into tears, poor little 
lad ! though he was on “ Gub’ment groun’.” 

“ Oh ! ” he cried, “ I cannot stay here and die such 
a miserable death. I f?iust get out ! I want to be a 



RESCUED FROM THE CANNON’S MOUTH. 

good, brave man like my father. 1 want to do some 
good in the world, as mamma has always taught me. 
Can it be that I am to starve to death here, just for 
a little thoughtlessness! Mamma says ‘thoughtless- 


A LITTLE boy’s NAP IN A CANNON. 


221 


ness is the beginning of sin.’ Oh, if I can only get 
out I will be thoughtful and careful ! ” 

He writhed and struggled, but in vain; he could 
not move any further out. 

Presently as he grew still with despair, his Sunday 
verse came to his mind : 

“ I will cry unto God with my voice ^ even unto God 
will I cry with my voice, and he shall heaf'ken unto meT 
So poor little Bertie thinking that his prison might 
be his living grave, sobbed forth prayer. He felt 
comforted dfrectly. Hope whispered that he would 
be found; and soon he remembered a queer little 
fable about a weasel who crawled into a grain-chest 
through a tiny hole and filled himself with grain, but 
found to his sorrow that he could not get out again 
until he was thinner. It was a story Dennis the 
watchman had told him ; he had often laughed over 
it with kind old Dennis. Bertie was glad now he 
had eaten no breakfast, and thought before a great 
while he would be thin enough to squirm out from 
the cannon. He wondered how many days it would 
take to make him thin enough, and bravely made 


222 


A LITTLE BOY S NAP IN A CANNON. 


up his mind to bear his imprisonment like a man. 
Soon weary and worn with his struggles, he fell 
asleep. ^ Thus sleeping at times, struggling no more 
but waiting with brave patience, the little fellow lay 
in his hot, close prison hour after hour. 

The afternoon was drawing to a close, still the 
search was carried on in the Yard and around it. 
Over and over again the same places were visited. 
The Commodore looked as though twenty years had 
been added to his life. He was sadly beginning to 
fear that further search was useless. Suddenly old 
Dinah saw something glittering on the ground in the 
gun-square. With a loud cry she pointed over the 
enclosure. Dennis sprang over the railing, and run- 
ning to the big cannon picked up Bertie’s little gun 
which he brandished high in the air. 

A crowd rushed to the spot. Dennis kneeling 
down, pointed to a little foot protruding from the 
cannon’s mouth. 

“ Found ! ” was the eager cry ; but there was little 
joy, for all feared that the child might be suffocated. 

Dennis managed to grasp the other foot, then 


A LITTLE boy’s NAP IN A CANNON. 


223 


pulled and tugged. The happy boy contracted his 
shoulders as best he could, and was finally drawn out, 
though both his shoulders and elbows were sorely 
scraped, and in another moment he was in the Com- 
modore’s arms, with mamma sobbing over him, while 
little Susie turned the tragedy to comedy, exclaiming : 

“ O, Bertie, you look like the Horribles we didn’t 
see i ” and truly Bertie was a spectacle : face, hands 
and clothes covered with powder-black and tears. 

Admiral Daley asked if “patriotism was his motive 
for spending the Fourth of July in a cannon ? ” but 
when he and the other officers learned that the child 
intended to wait patiently in his prison until he was 
thin enough to get out, their eyes dimmed with tears, 
and they recognized that the little fellow was of the 
stuff heroes are made of. 

The Commodore carried him home with a thank- 
ful heart. His mother and Dinah bathed and 
dressed his wounds, and when he came down to tea 
in a fresh suit of clothes, no one would have thought 
him the worse for his adventure. 

The officers of the Ohio sent over, offering to defer 


224 A LITTLE BOY’S NAP IN A CANNON. 

the party till the next day, but Bertie would not hear 
of thus disappointing the other children, and begged 
them not to, promising to be there himself. 

So the Fourth was finished up as originally intended. 
The receiving-ship was like a fairy palace, so gayly 
decorated with Japanese lanterns, flags and flowers. 
The new moon above, the sparkling water beneath, 
the grhant officers in their bright uniforms, the grace- 
ful ladies and the pretty children, fairly transformed 
the old Ohio. How happy they all were ! The band 
played, the children frolicked and danced ; and 
laughing over quaint mottoes, bonbons, dainty cakes 
and ices, they ended the Fourth of July. 


ANOTHER GHOST. 


T SAW it when I happened to be. staying for a time 
in a town which I will call Moulderville. The 
ghost was so much a result of the town, as a bitter 
crab apple is the natural fruit of a crab-tree all 
gnarled and knotted, that I must stop a moment to 
tell you about it. 

Moulderville was once nothing but a tract of level 
country in the southwest. It was a region of sandy 
soil and solemn post oaks, of sluggish creeks and bits 
of prairie grown up with a queer kind of weed called 
Indian coffee, as high as a man on horseback, and 
full in the fall of the year of pods containing seeds 
good for nothing on earth but to poison people and 
to make a most mournful rattling in the wind. The 
wind, however, never actually blew in good earnest 
over Moulderville ; it always fell into a sorrowful 


226 


ANOTHER GHOST. 


sigh when it got there, as if however rollicking it had 
been before, as soon as it reached the edge of the 
place it sunk into a whisper: “ Yes, yes, O yes, very 
sad indeed ! ” 

There were plenty of “ cotton mouths ” in the stag- 
nant creeks, a sort of venomous water snake, the one 
object and joy of whose existence was to bite some- 
body. .There was an abundance of mosquitoes too, 
but they were of a mean species which bled you 
stealthily, never singing, low-bred thieves. 

But I dare say the ruin of Moulderville had 
broken their hearts also. You see the owner of that 
region believed that the railroad would pass right 
through it, and so he had had a beautiful map made 
of the city that was to be with its streets and churches 
and public squares and all. He had built, and induced 
others to erect ever so many handsome houses and busi- 
ness blocks with a tremendous four-story hotel in the 
centre. But somehow the railroad left Moulder- 
ville half a dozen miles to one side, and the town was 
exactly like a ship left that far inland by the reced- 
ing sea. Everybody left too who could get away, 
and it was as if the very heart and soul had also 


ANOTHER GHOST. 


227 


gone even from those who remained behind. 

No wonder I saw a ghcftt there ! For weeks the 
people had been croaking to me of their ruined 
hopes. As soon as they stopped with the falling 
night the frogs for miles all around took up the 
woful story and croaked, never ceasing until the 
townspeople woke up next morning to carry it on 
for them until night again. 

“ I do believe,” I said to myself one weary, dreary 
afternoon as I went out, “ that the very crows fly — 
yes, yonder goes one as slowly as if to a funeral : 
and any one can see that it is blacker than crows 
generally get to be. Listen! caw! caw! as sepulchral 
as if it was the last of its tribe. The very dinner- 
bell at that gaunt and forsaken hotel hadn’t a par- 
ticle of gladness in it, tolling as if to a fast instead of 
to a feast. I do believe I will go to the cemetery ; it 
can’t be sadder.” And I did. Yes, I sat for a long 
time in the old neglected enclosure, all overgrown 
with briers and vines.- It began to rain as I sat. 
Not a hearty downpour, but slowly and silently, as if 
in tears for a sorrow which had no remedy, with the 
sobs and moans of low thunder now and then, and 


228 


ANOTHER GHOST. 


never a flash of lightning. Gloom, nothing but deep, 
dolorous gloom, embracing all the world, and never 
to end forever and ever ! I may be over sensitive. 

I am sure that a pleasant letter, the glad laugh of a 
child, the gambols about me just then of a dog, 
even a pleasant remembrance of something flash- 
ing into my mind would have changed my whole 
feeling. But there was nothing there save the silent 
dead without me ; nothing in my mind but the terri- 
ble affliction of a dear friend who had written to me 
that very day telling me of all his trouble up to date. 
Up to date, because he was one of those people 
who, although one of the best men living, never have 
anything but trouble following upon trouble as long 
as they live, and it was his ghost that I saw. 

Not in the cemetery. I knew that I would be 
placed there for good if 1 did not get out of the 
rain, so I went to the dismal hotel and to sleep. 
About midnight I woke up out of a deep slumber and 
there stood the afflicted man of whom I have spoken, 
a little to one side, at the foot of my bed. Yes, 
there he stood, except that he was about a third as 
large again as he really was. No doubt about the 


ANOTHER GHOST. 


229 


man. The same broad chest, grizzled beard, set and 
solemn brow, stern and determined face. If the man 
had been there in the body, this spectre could not 
have been more like him, saving that this was larger. 

I had a slow, crawling, uncomfortable feeling you 
may be sure; nothing at all, however, as of the 
agony and spasm of terror. 

“You poor, poor fellow!” I said to myself, “why 
is it that you never have any variety to your troubles ; 
or, if there is any variety, it is only to some sorrow 
wholly unexpected, and worse than went before ? 
You are so good too, honest, inflexible in what you 
regard as honorable and just. No man more eager 
to relieve the wretched, no sincerer Christian alive. 
Yet such a singular twisf in your character ; always 
going at your honest ends with such amazing energy, 
yet always driven beyond or off to one side of that 
end as by the excess of your energy. No wonder 
you look resolved. All your sorrowful life you have 
set your face against the storms. The gale which 
hurries other men cheerily along into harbor, blows 
dead against you. And always, always 1 ” 

There he stood. The whole house was as silent as 


230 


ANOTHER GHOST. 


if every soul in it was stone dead. In the deep still- 
ness the ghost stood there like a statue of iron, I 
cannot say for how long. There 1 lay looking at 
him, the crawling fear steadily subsiding. 

“ Of course this is some illusion,” I had said 
to myself. “ Now is it the result of my stay in this 
most mournful town ? I wonder if last night’s hot 
and heavy biscuits can have anything to do with it } 
1 was thinking about him too when I fell asleep. 

Perhaps it may be something outside of me also, in 
combination with what is wrong in me. Let me see.” 
And so I very carefully studied the ghost. No, it 
was my poor friend ; every part of him was there : 
brow, eyes, beard, broad shoulders, deep sorrow ! 
Just then a motion like a smile flickered over the 
face. At the same time I felt a gentle breath of air 
on my cheek. I turned to the half open window, 
and then to the ghost. Now 1 know how much 
more thrilling it would be to leave my ghost as a 
mystery which I could not solve, but there is nothing 
in all the world so beautiful as truth. 

Upon the right hand from the foot of the bed, 
hung a curtain, concealing clothing suspended from 


ANOTHER GHOST. 


231 


the wall. Upon this the moon shone full, the rain 
being over, and the moonlight on the folds of the 
curtain, and my busy brain had done all the rest. 

But I do know that nobody ever could see a ghost 
more distinctly than I saw mine. Except that it was 
larger, had my friend been there in person it 
could not have been more like. Besides, he is 
living still, and has had ever so many years full 
of new troubles since I saw his ghost that night. 


TOO FOND OF MAPLE SUGAR. 



HE sugar-making season was closing along the 


river valley. The April sun was riding high 
and shining warmly ; the snow was gone from the 
lowlands and south-sloping hillsides, and the maple 
buds were swelling rapidly toward leaf-bursting. 
Plainly, no more pure-flavored sugar could be ob- 
tained from the Lymans’ “ sugar-bush ” that season. 

But, over the hills six miles away, where the 
Lymans’ relatives, the Deans and the Allisons, lived, 
it was different. That locality was much higher with- 
out the sunny exposure and southern opening of the 
valley, the soil was colder, the forests denser, and, all 
things considered, the prospect was fair for a week 
more of sugar-making. 

So thought the Lymans on Friday evening when 
they found it necessary to make the last “run of sap ’’ 


TOO FOND OF MAPLE SUGAR. 


233 


into molasses, because it would not “grain; ” 'and as 
they sat talking it over, it was decided to make their 
friends a visit, going Saturday afternoon and return- 
ing Monday forenoon. The children were joyous 
over the prospect, for the families were very affec- 
tionate relatives. Their intermarriage cemented 
them most closely. Mrs. Lyman was a Dean ; Mrs. 
Dean was an Allison, and Mrs. Allison was a Lyman ; 
and there were from three to six children in each 
family. They moved from the East at the same time, 
and had prospered much alike. The Allisons and 
Deans, however, had settled on a small stream among 
'the hills where the two men had built a mill, while the 
Lymans had preferred the river valley. 

Immediately after the Saturday dinner they all 
made ready for the start. The “ best clothes ” were 
donned ; the hymn-book was taken from the chest, 
for they were faithful Methodists and expected to 
“go to meetin’ at the Hill meetin’-house ; ” the big, 
ox-sled was nearly filled with straw for warmth, and 
some comfortable split-bottomed chairs tied in as 
seats for mother and grandmother; the oxen were 
yoked — big, lank, gentle-eyed fellows ; the stock was 


234 


TOO FOND OF MAPLE SUGAR. 


fed a double portion, and Mr. Weston, who lived 
across the river, was engaged to come over and feed 
again Sunday morning. 

As the slope was bare, Mr. Lyman and the two 
boys walked to the brow of the hill where the ever- 
greens began, from which point all the way to their 
destination there was more or less snow. 

Away they went at the dignified rate of two miles 
an hour, but as happy and chatty as if their steeds 
were “ dapple-grays,” with strings of merry bells and 
a three-hundred-dollar sleigh. 

In due season they reached their friends, and a 
jolly time they had visiting, on matters past, present 
and future. The men looked at the stock of cattle, 
the mill-yard of saw-logs, talked of their work, and 
compared notes generally ; the women recounted in- 
door alfairs ; the children whispered and giggled and 
romped ; and all did justice to the warm sugar. Next 
day they went to meeting in proper form, and in the 
evening attended class-meeting. 

Monday morning bright and early, after a break- 
fast of buckwheat cakes and maple svrup, they were 
off for home, Mr. and Mrs. Lyman, grandmother, 


TOO FOND OF MAPLE SUGAR. 


235 


Amos and George — big boys of seventeen and fifteen 
— Mary and the baby. Onward they trudged till to- 
ward noon, the snow everywhere less than on Satur- 
day, but the sturdy oxen making sure work of it. 
When they reached the outskirts of the “sugar-bush,” 
through which the road led around the hill, Mr. 
Lyman said: 

“Now, Mary, if you can walk the rest o’ the way 
with the boys, we’ll set the kettles and other things at 
rtre camp right on the sled, and take ’em to the 
house.” 

“All right, I’d like to, on the green grass,” re- 
sponded Mary, a buxom lassie of ten years ; and 
springing off, she joined her brothers on the grassy 
bank at the roadside. How gay and birdlike 
children are when spring first uncovers the ground, 
after the long snowy winter! 

They had gone but a few rods further when the 
oxen began to lift their noses, bend forward their 
ears, and look earnestly ahead, as if they smelt, 
heard or saw something quite uncommon; but Mr. 
Lyman could discover nothing strange, and remark- 
ing that the creatures were probably excited by their 


236 


TOO FOND OF MAPLE SUGAR. 


near approach to home, with a loud “ Whoa haw, go 
long!” urged them on. But the oxen did not “go 
long” very well; they swung around now this way 
and now that, stopped often, and acted so wild and 
nervous that Mrs. Lyman called out excitedly: 

“ Stop, husband, stop, and let mother and me out. 
I’m afraid o’ the creatures, they act so. They’ll tip 
us over yet.” 

The boys and Mary were watching the proceedings 
from the roadside, and Amos called : 

“Hold on, motlier; let me take the baby and then 
you can help grandmother.” 

Just as he stepped back on the grassy bank with the 
little one in his arms, keen-eyed Mary exclaimed in 
an agitated undertone : 

“ Oh my I what’s that running around down by the 
sugar-camp } ” 

Looking in that direction, Amos and George saw 
certain movements that astonished them very much. 

“ A bear I a bear I ” shouted George. “ But what 
A looking head I ” 

“.If it’s a bear, he’s drunk I See him tumble!” 
exclaimed Amos. “ Here, mother, take the baby.” 


TOO FOND OF MAPLE SUGAR. 


237 


Mrs. Lyman took the child, and the boys bounded 
away to investigate the mystery, while Mary wished 
she was a boy and brave enough to go with her 
brothers. 

Meantime Mr. Lyman was having trouble with the 
team, whoaing, hawing and geeing with the vehe- 
mence of a first-class backwoodsman ; but to little 
purpose, for they were beside themselves with 
terror. Finally, however, he succeeded in driving 
them along till they were opposite the object of their 
fears, which was now some rods above the camp 
among the trees ; but here he lost all control of them, 
and they rushed in wild and characteristic arkward- 
ness down the hill homeward. With no team to take 
his attention, Mr. Lyman turned aside to learn the 
cause of all this commotion. The two women and Mary 
were standing by the camp fireplace, while George 
and Amos had gone up nearer to the creature. Sure 
enough, it was a bear; but Amos’ suspicion was a 
slander against the poor animal, for it had only 
thrust its head deep into a sugar kettle and could not 
remove it. 

Tlears are very fond of sweet things, and no doubt 


TOO FOND OF MAPLE SUGAR 


238 



this one had been attracted to the camp by the smell 
of sugar ; and after lickling out various other vessels, 
had come to this kettle, an old-fashioned iron pot, 



TOO FOND OF MAPI.E SUGAR. 


239 


and finding the inside surface peculiarly inviting, had 
pushed his head deeper and deeper into it until it 
slipped over his big bony jaws and thick ears. In 
this predicament he could neither see nor hear, and 
his mouth was effectually shut as to mischief, so that, 
although his mighty paws were free, they were harm- 
less so long as the kettle held him prisoner. He 
now was trying to run away, but, being unable to 
make out the points of compass or perceive the logs, 
stumps and trees in his path, was like a person play- 
ing carelessly at “ blind-man’s buff,” constantly run- 
ning against obstacles and tumbling himself over, 
an^ upon regaining his feet starting off in another 
direction. Amos and George, fearless of him in his 
misfortune, were amusing themselves by pulling his 
stubbed tail, George even venturing to leap astride 
of him and ride several rods. 

“Oh, don’t! don’t I boys,” called Mrs. Lyman. 
“ What if it should come off all at once ; he’d kill 
you in an instant.” 

“ Which do you mean, mother, the kettle or the 
tail?” gleefully responded Amos. “They’re both 
fast enough ; so never fear. He’s tried to get the 


240 


TOO FOND OF MAPLE SUGAR. 


kettle off till he’s scratched liis neck dreadfully.” 

Every few minutes the animal would stand on his 
haunches and paw at the kettle with a vigor that 
would have removed it had that been possible. 
Finally, Mr. Lyman said: 

“ Boys, you stay and watch him, and I’ll carry the 
baby to the house, take care o’ the oxen, and get 
some ropes; and we’ll see if we can lead him ’to 
the corn-barn and shut him up.” 

In half an hour he returned, and after careful 
managing they had Bruin haltered, and by much 
pulling and hauling got him under way toward his 
quarters. Once started on open ground, he struck 
into such a pace that it required their utmost effort 
to keep him from running away as the oxen had 
done. At length, mainly by the creature’s eagerness 
to escape, they steered him into the corn-barn, 
a strong log building, and made him fast by a 
chain. 

When they had assured themselves that he was 
absolutely secure, the problem arose how to remove 
the kettle. The only way seemed to be to break it 
in pieces ; yet of course the instant this was done 


TOQ FOND OF MAPLE SUGAR. 


241 


the ugly mouth and keen eyes would be at liberty 
and he might make matters lively for his liberator 
if within reach. 

Amos insisted that this task belonged by right 
to him, because he was spryer than George, who was 
too young, or than his father, who was too old. Mr. 
Lyman hesitated, having not the greatest confidence 
in his son’s agility. After much parleying, however, 
Amos gained his point. 

“You must not strike on top, or at the side,” said 
Mr. Lyman, “or you may not only break the kettle, 
but kill the bear too. Strike well back along the 
neck on the under side, so as to crush the rim round 
the top of the kettle.” 

Taking the hammer in hand, Amos approached 
thebear. All the family stood near the door, but where 
they could instantly dart into the house if necessary. 

“ Now do take care ! ” said the anxious mother. 

“ Of the bear, do you mean ? ” laughed Amos ; and 
then added in a pompous tone, like a hero of many 
victories, “ Oh pshaw, mother ! he’s tied so short he 
can’t come an inch this way ; and if he could, I’m 
too spry for him.” 


242 


TOO FOND OF MAPLE SUGAR. 


Going up Avithin convenient striking distance, he 
swung the hammer two or three times just where he 
wished to strike so as to make accurate work of it, 
and then gave the kettle a ringing blow. 

But the only result was to startle the bear and 
cause him to spring suddenly forward, which in turn 
so scared Amos that he tripped over his own heels 
and fell awkwardly through the doorway upon the 
ground outside ; this frightened the baby, a child of 
three years, and Mary, so that one cried and the 
other screamed. But the rest of the family were 
greatly amused, Mrs. Lyman saying ; 

“ How spry, oh, how very spry you are, 
Amos ! ” 

But Amos sprang to his feet and marched in to try 
it again. The bear had changed position, giving 
chance for a fairer blow at the kettle, and this time 
it snapped in pieces, leaving the creature’s head free 
once more. But instead of offering his liberator any 
violence or showing the least ferocity, he sat quietly 
blinking at the light, seeming amazed at the sudden 
change. But in a few days he developed a fierce 



TOO FOND OF MAPLE SUGAR. 


243 


and very large, it was found impossible to tame him 
in the least. 

All that summer they kept him firmly chained in 
the corn-barn and fed him well ; but as winter 
approached he grew more and more savage, and so 
they made a lap-robe of his furry hide, and meat of 
the best parts of his flesh. 


GOOD ADVICE. 


Translated from the German for Intermediate Monthly Reader 
By Prof. J. C. Pickard. 


See’st thou upon the ocean strand 
A pearl half hidden in the sand ? 

O make it thine without delay, 

For the next hurrying, grasping wave 
May drag it to a watery grave. 

To see no more the cheerful day. 

And if on life’s highway thou meet 
A heart whose pulses warmly beat 
Toward thee, turn not cold away. 
To-day it blooms, but, touched by frost. 
How soon its tender grace is lost ! 

It shuts, and opes no more for aye. 


THE STIMPCETTS’ SUN- 
RISE PARTY. 


ly >TR. STIMPCETT, to save time in going to mill, 
^ decided to take fifteen bags of corn at once, 
and carry them in the hayri^gin’, and set Wednesday 
as the day to go ; and Mrs. Stimpcett said that as the 
washing and ironing would be out of the way, she 
and the children would go too, and make a call at 
their aunt Debby’s, in Mill Village, and grandma said 
she would take care of the house. 

A boy had told Moses that the circus which per- 
formed in Batsford on Tuesday, would perform in 
Josslynville on Wednesday. Now the road from 
Batsford to Josslynville led right across the road 
from Gilead to Mill Village. The crossing was about 
two miles from Mr. Stimpcett’s, and Moses said the 
boy told him that if they could start early enough, 
and wait at the crossing, they might see the chariot 


THE STIMPCETTS’ SUNRISE PARTY. 245 

with the twelve white horses, and the elephant, and 
some of the animals in the cages, but they would 
have to start at daylight, because when the way 
is long circuses travel by night. 

There were woods and fields all around the cross- 
ing, and Mr. St. Clair said it would be delightful to 
stand on a hill and see the sun rise, and said they 
might take their breakfast and eat it either on the 
hill or in some other place, and said he would go 
with them and see the sun rise, and would eat break- 
fast with them and then go on towards Batsford to 
visit a friend. 

Tuesday afternoon Mr. St. Clair and the boys tied 
hemlock branches around the hayriggin’ for shade, 
and after supper the things for breakfast were packed 
inside, the coffee-pot and tin tea-kettle and the chil- 
dren’ sporringers being swung on a rope underneath. 

Moses and Obed went to bed at bedtime, but arose 
soon after and dressed themselves, and lay down in 
their clothes. 

At that time of the year it was daylight at about 
half-past three, and a little before three Mr. Stimpcett 


246 THE STIMPCETTS’ SUNRISE PARTY. 

went out with his lantern to feed the horses, Mrs. 
Stimpcett hurried to call the boys, stepping softly 
so as not to wake grandma ; but in the passage-way 
she came bump against grandma, all dressed, and 
Moses and Obed had heard the first squeak of the 
barn door and gone down outside by means of the 
rain-water spout. As soon as Orah and little Cordelia 
were dressed they sat out on the cellar door and 
looked at the stars. Mr. St. Clair rolled up his sleeves 
and his trousers and tried to milk the cow, but as he 
did not know how, and the cow was troublesome, 
he set the pail out of the reach of her feet, and held 
the lantern while Mr. Stimpcett and Obed harnessed 
the horses. Mr. Stimpcett took both horses, though 
they were not both of a size, for as they were old, it 
would take them both to pull so heavy a load. The 
corn-bags were used for seats. 

The hayriggin’, with the party inside, left the yard 
just as the daylight was beginning to light the dark- 
ness, the time when the birds wake up and sing as 
they never sing again through all the day. The 
roosters waked also, and crowed loudly to each other 


THE STIMPCETTS’ SUNRISE PARTY. 


247 


from farm-yards far apart. When this early concert 
was over, there was scarcely a sound heard save the 
grinding of the wheels and the click of the horses’ 
hoofs, and now and then the sudden bark of a watch- 
dog. As it grew lighter there were often to be seen 
squirrels frolicking on the fences, or a cat slinking 
home from her night's hunting, or a field mouse slip- 
ping under the grass to be out.of the way before sunrise. 

By the time they had nearly reached the crossing, 
the sky had grown very bright in the east, and Mr. 
Stimpcett stopped near a brook and hitched the 
horses, and all the party excepting Mr. Stimpcett 
went to the top of the hill to watch the rising of 
the sun. Even before the sun came in sight the 
higher hill-tops in the distance were brightened by 
his rays, and the windows of houses there shone 
so that it seemed as if the houses must be on fire. 
The brightness on the hill-tops spread more and 
more, and chased the darkness down the hill-sides 
until at last all was light and day was begun. 

You are not for a moment to suppose that these 
people looked directly at the sun. No; they shaded 


N 


248 TLIE STIMPCETTS’ SUNRISE PARTY. 

their eyes with their hats or their hands, or turned 
away. 

Meantime Mr. Stimpcett made a fire between some 
stones he had rolled together, set the tea-kettle boil- 
ing — having filled it with water from the brook — 
and made the coffee, and just as Mr. St. Clair was 
showing Orah and little Cordelia how the clover- 
leaves wake up in the morning, Mr. Stimpcett called 
from below that breakfast was ready, and the sun- 
gazers went down to breakfast. 

Mr. St. Clair took out one of the corn-bags and 
was going to take out more, for seats, but Mrs. Stimp- 
cett said it would save trouble and be better every 
way, to let the bags be and to eat breakfast in the 
hayriggin’. Upon hearing this the children all tumbled 
in as quick as they could. Mr. Stimpcett poured the 
coffee, Mrs. Stimpcett gave the children their bread 
and milk, and sandwiches and buttered biscuits 
were handed round by those who could best reach 
them. 

It was noticed that the horses grew uneasy, grew 
more and more uneasy. Suddenly Mr. Stimpcett 


THE STIMPCETTS’ SUNRISE PARTY. 


249 

seized the reins, shouted Hold on!'' turned the 
horses, and they went off upon a gallop that made 
the hayriggin’ to go bouncing over the road, and the 
people inside to go bump against each other, and the 
spoons, dishes and tin things to go rattling about -, 
and what was worse, in the quick turning Moses and 
one loaf of bread went out behind into the sand. 

Mrs. Stimpcett called to Mr. Stimpcett to stop, but 
he paid no attention, for he had all he could do to 
hold the horses until, in a few minutes, he turned 
them around a rounded corner behind some woods, 
and there he stopped them, and the people let go of 
each other. 

“It was the elephant!” said Mr. Stimpcett. “The 
horses smelled him. I got sight of him, and if I 
had waited another instant the horses would have 
upset the whole of us, and broken every thing in 
pieces ! Where’s ma going ? ” For Mrs. Stimpcett 
was out and away. 

“ Moses fell out behind 1 ” shouted Obed, and he 
ran after Mrs. Stimpcett, and after him went Mr. St. 
Clair and Orah and little Cordelia. 


250 


THE STIMPCETTS’ SUNRISE PARTY. 


“ I thought the chariot always went ahead of the 
elephant,” said Mrs. Stimpcett, panting and hurrying. 

“Not always when they are travelling,” said Mr. 
St. Clair, also panting and hurrying. 

As they came near the spot they started from, 
they saw the elephant coming toward that spot, eat- 
ing grass as he came. He was attended by two 
keepers. 

“Oh, I don’t see Moses anywhere!” said Mrs. 
Stimpcett. 

“ Why, he’s picking up our loaf of bread ! ” cried 
Obed, meaning the elephant. And sure enough ! he 
was picking up the loaf with his trunk and raising 
it to his mouth. He then poked the bag of corn, 
and one of the keepers went to get it, but stopped 
when he saw Mr. Stimpcett coming to do the same 
thing. The elephant stepped slowly a few steps 
forward. Mrs. Stimpcett and the children stepped 
quickly a few steps backward. “ Don’t be afraid,” 
said the man, “he won’t touch you.” 

“ I am looking for my boy,” said Mrs. Stimpcett. 

“ Here I am, ma I ” cried a voice from above. 


THE STIMPCETTS’ SUNRISE PARTY. 


251 


They all looked up and saw Moses high among 
the boughs of a wild cherry-tree. “There comes 
the chariot ! And there comes all the circus ! ” he 
shouted, and down he went like a squirrel, only that 
squirrels go down head first. 

The chariot and all the circus stopped at the 
crossing, and the drivers watered the horses from the 
brook. 

The head circus man looked often back on the road 
to Batsford. One of the drivers showed him the bag of 
corn which Mr. Stimpcett had placed against a fence. 

“Where did that come from.?” asked the head 
man. “ I wish I had a dozen of them.” 

“ I’ve got fifteen of them,” said Mr. Stimpcett. “I 
am going to mill with them.” 

It seems that the circus had started in a hurry, 
without giving the horses much breakfast, and had 
planned to stop and give them a rest' and a full feed 
at the crossing. The wagon with the grain had not 
arrived; and the head man was very anxious, for they 
were in a hurry to get to Josslynville and begin to put 
up the tent. Said he to Mr Stimpcett, “ I’ll give you 


252 


THE STIMPCETTS’ SUNRISE PARTY. 


your price for the corn, besides letting you all go into 
the circus for nothing, and you can buy meal at Jos- 
slynville.” 

Mr. Stimpcett named his price — seventy-five cents 
a bushel. 

The head man went to Mr. Stimpcett and looked 
him all over and said, “ What kind of a man are you ? 
That is only the regular price. I thought that because 
I need the corn you would charge a high price for it.” 

“Fair is fair,” said honest Mr. Stimpcett. 

“ I suppose the corn is good corn,” said the head 
man. 

A farmer of that neighborhood was standing by, a 
stout, solid-looking person, and he examined the corn 
and pronounced it good. Mr. Stimpcett then went 
to unload the whole from the hayriggin’. 

Moses and Obed and Orah and little Cordelia looked 
at the animals in the cages, and could see them very 
well, as the coverings were let down. The stout 
man told Obed a wonderful story of a lion. Nothing 
pleased Moses so much as the great gilded chariot 
with its twelve white horses, with their glittering 


THE STIMPCETTS’ SUNRISE PARTY. 


253 


harnesses, their tassels, fringes, and their feathery 
plumes at the tops of their heads. The chariot had 
in front an immense gilt head of some sort of a 
dragon, and the other part was in the shape of a 
boat, only that the back end flared out like a spread- 
ing tail. 

The chariot driver talked with Moses, and see- 
ing by his actions that he was uncommonly spry, 
said: “Come up if you want to,” and up went 
Moses. 

When the circus was ready to start, Mr. St. Clair 
said good-by and went on towards Batsford to visit 
his friend. Moses expected to be sent down, but to 
his amazement and delight the driver asked him to 
stay up and ride into Josslynville. His parents said 
he might and they would drive along in the hayriggin’ 
and keep him in sight. This they did all the way to 
Josslynville, but at the entrance of the town the road 
became so filled with carriages and foot people that 
the hayriggin’ had to fall back. As Mrs. Stimpcett 
felt anxious to keep Moses in sight, she got out and 
kept on with the crowd that went with the procession 


254 


THE STIMPCETTS’ SUNRISE PARTY. 


through and across and up and down the town of 
Josslynville to the circus field. There at last she 
found Moses and held him as quiet as she could till 
Mr. Stimpcett, who had been stabling his horses, 
came up with Obed and Orah and little Cordelia. 

They all went into the tent, and had good seats, 
and saw everything that was done, and bought glasses 
of lemonade that were offered at ten cents a glass, 
and when the prize boxes of sugared pop-corn came 
round Mrs. Stimpcett bought one for each of the 
children. But whether it was Moses and Orah 
that found the toy watches in the corn, and Obed 
and little Cordelia the rings with red stones, or 
whether it was Obed and little Cordelia that found 
the watches, and Moses and Orah the rings with the 
red stones, I do not know. But I think it was one 
way or the other, though after all it may have been 
Moses and little Cordelia that found the watches, and 
Obed and Orah the rings ; anyway it was one way or 
one of the other ways ; and just so about the fans. 
When they came^ round Mrs. Stimpcett bought one 
apiece for Orah and little Cordelia : but whether it 


THE STIMPCETTS’ SUNRISE PARTY. 


255 


was the Chinaman on little Cordelia’s fan that had 
the watering-pot. and the Japanese on Grab’s that 
was kissing his hand, or whether the Japanese had 
the watering-pot and the Chinaman was kissing his 
hand, is more than I can remember ; and I cannot 
even say sure which fan had the Chinaman and which 
the Japanese. 

And now my story would be done, only for telling 
of grandma’s fright about- Moses. A Gilead man in 
Josslynville, went back to Gilead before the circus 
was done, and told that he saw Moses in the circus 
chariot, and this news came to grandma in such a 
way that she thought the circus people had stolen 
Moses — on account of his being uncommonly spry — 
to make a circus boy of him. So what does grandma 
do but to send off some of the neighbors to help Mr. 
Stimpcett get back Moses. A few went on horseback 
and others in wagons ; and about a mile out of Gilead 
they met the hayriggin’ with Mr. St. Clair and all the 
Stimpcetts on board, merry as half a dozen fiddlers, 
Moses swinging his legs out behind, because he could 
not make them go enough inside.' The people on 


256 THE STIMPCETTS’ SUNRISE PARTY. 


horseback and in wagons turned and followed the 
hayriggin’ to Mr. Stimpcett’s house, where they gave 
three cheers, which brought grandma to the door in 
a hurry. 

There is nothing more to tell that belongs to this 
story, except that for a long time Moses stood on his 
head a good deal, and spoke of things as having hap- 
pened either before he rode in the chariot, or when 
he rode in the chariot, or after he rode in the 
chariot. 


CHILDREN’S BOOKS IN OLD 
TIMES. 


I T is usually said, and most young folks think, that 
in the olden times of this country the children 
had no story books, that they spent the little time 
they were allowed from their tasks in reading the 
Pilgrim’s Progress, Fox’s Book of Martyrs and the 
Bible stories. But this was not by any means the 
case, and having, in the course of some researches 
for another purpose, come across a pile of old story 
books and picture books, I will describe them and 
try to place before the readers of ^his sketch a 
picture of a “juvenile librar}^” — books which have 
been handed down the generations of children in an 
old family of Massachusetts. There was something 


258 


children’s books in old times. 


exceedingly touching in the sight of this little pack- 
age of children’s books stowed away among old deeds 
of land, and records of roads and boundaries, and 
great legers and leather-bound volumes. Tattered 



{From “ Memoirs of the Little Man and Little Maid.") 


and mended, with queer covers stitched on them 
made of wall paper or common brown 'paper, they 
had been worn out with use — not in any case need- 
lessly torn or soiled — and were without mark or im 


children’s books in old times. 


259 


tentional defacement. Books were scarce when chil- 
dren read these. I could seem to see the little ones 
of almost a hundred years ago, in their odd dress, and 
by the light of the candle, or by the fire-light on the 
hearth, spelling out these ancient stories. On one of 
the more recent books, say sixty or seventy years 
old, was written by his father’s hand, (he has long 
slept in the grave) “ Little Samuel was reading this 
book the day before he died.” “ Three years and seven 
months old.” Yet the words were quite hard and it 
must have been a precocious child who could even 
guess at a few of them, when only three years of age. 
The oldest and most worn of the books is entitled, 

THE HISTORY 

OF 

LITTLE GOODY TWO SHOES, 

OTHERWISE CALLED 

MRS. MARGERY TWO SHOES, 

WITH 

The Means by which she acquired Her Learning and Wisdom, 
and in Consequence thereof her Estate. 

Sent forth for the Benefit of those. 

Who, from a State of Rags and Care, 

And having Shoes but Half a Pair, 

Their Fortune and their Fame would fix 
And gallop in a coach and six. 


26 o 


children’s books in old times. 


BOSTON 

Printed and sold by Nathaniel Covell, 
Near the Sign of the White Horse, 
1783. 


The story runs as follows : (Perhaps the young 
folks of to-day are familiar with it in a more modern 
dress.) A cruel landlord in England turned out of 
doors a poor family. The father and mother died 
leaving two children, a boy and girl. The Parish 
clergyman took pity on them, and would have kept 
the little girl, Margery, in his house, after sending 
her brother to be a sailor ; but the cruel landlord, 
who was a man of power in the village, forbade him 
to do so. Poor little Margery, when the minister 
took her first to his house, had but one shoe. He 
got her a new pair, at which she was so delighted 
she showed her two shoes to everybody she met and 
gained the name of “ Two Shoes.” “ How little 
Margery learned to read, and by degrees taught oth- 
er s,^^ is told in a quaint way ; and how she went from 
house to house, to the delight of all the children 
whom she taught to read. “ How little Two-Shoes 
became a Uotting Tutoress and how she taught her 
Young Pupils, Chapter V. would, I fear, be thought 
rather a tame story by the young folks who read now 
such wonderful tales of adventure and romance, 


children’s books in old times. 261 

However there are some pictures which make up foi 
the lack of incident. 

“ Chapter VI. How the whole Parish was fright- 
ened. Who does not know Lady Duckington or 
who does not know that she was buried at the Parish 
Church ? Well, I never saw so grand a funeral in all 
my life, but the money they squandered away would 
have been better laid out in books for children, or 
meat, drink and clothes for the poor. This is a very 
fine hearse indeed, and the nodding plumes on the 
horse look very grand, very remarkable indeed.” 

Then there is a picture of a hearse, and the 
story goes on to say that Goody Two Shoes went 
to the funeral, and after the church was shut, 
and locked, in the middle of the night or near 
day, a ringing of bells was heard, and everybody in 
the village was afraid, and the clerk refused to open 
the church door for fear of ghosts ; for he said his 
father once saw a ghost there, in the shape of a wind- 
mill, and it walked all around in a white sheet, with 
thick boots on and a gun by its side. But at last, the 
rector crying out, “ Give me the key of the church, 
you monkey ; for I tell you there is no such thing 
now,” entered and found Goody Two Shoes fast 
asleep. She had rung the bell like a sensible child, 
in hopes to be let out. 


262 


CHILDREN S BOOKS IN OLD TIMES. 


Chapter VII. contains Little Miss Two Shoes own 
account of “ all the Spirits, or Ghosts, she saw in the 
Church,^' which were Snip, the dog, and a mouse or 



{From Memoirs of the Little Man and Little Maid.") 


two. Whereupon she remarked that “ Anyone pos- 
sessed of fear might have taken neighbor Sanderson’s 
dog with his cold nose for a ghost and if they had 
not been undeceived, as I was, would never have 


CHlLt>REN’s BOOKS IN OLD TIMES. 263 

thought Otherwise.”- “ All the company acknowledged 
the justness of the observation and thanked Little Two 
Shoes for her advice.” 

“ Those who would know how she behaved aftei 
she came to be Mrs. Margery Two Shoes must read 
the second part of the work,” quaintly adds the 
chronicler. 

To become “ Mrs.” meant to become a woman. 
She continued to teach every child, and, indeed, the 
dumb animals, having a heart full of compassion. 
She rescued a raven from some cruel boys, and taught 
it to pick out the large letters of the alphabet. She 
named it Ralph. She saved a pigeon from an un- 
timely death at the hands of “ some naughty Boys,” 
and as the Raven, Ralph, was fond of the large letters, 
Tom, the pigeon, she taught to take care of the small 
ones, of which he composed the following alphabet : 
“abcdefghi jklmnopqrst 
u V w X y z.” 

The neighbors gave her a skylark, and she bought 
a lamb, that- had lost its dam, from a farmer. This 
she named Will. “ No sooner was Tippy the Lark, 
and Will the Ba-lamb brought into the school, but 
that sensible rogue, Ralph the Raven, composed this 
verse which every good boy and girl should get by 
heart : 


264 children’s books in old times. 


Early to Bed and Early to Rise, 

Is the way to be Healthy, wealthy and wise.” 

Somebody also gave her a dog, Jumper. 

Chapter XL, A Scene of distress at the School S 



{From Memoirs of the Little Man and Little Maid.*’) 


News comes that the father of Sally Jones was thrown 
from his horse, and is past recoveryL Mrs. Two 
Shoes sent Tom Pigeon home with the messen- 
ger who brought this bad news, and b\’'-and-by some- 


children’s books in old times. 265 

thing was heard Slap at the window. “ Wow, wow,” 
says Jumper ; but Mrs. Margery opened the casement, 
as Noah did the window of the Ark, and drew in Tom 
Pigeon with a letter. “ Now the poor pigeon had trav- 
eled about fifty miles in about an hour, to bring the 
letter, and who would destroy such pretty crea- 
tures } ” 

Little Sally’s father was restored. But such a won- 
derful event, and also Mrs. Margery’s contriving an 
instrument to help Farmer Grove mow his hay, made 
her to be suspected for. a witch ; and “ Gaffer Goose- 
cap,” a busy fellow in other people’s concerns, was 
sent to find out evidence against her. “ This wiseacre 
happened to come to her school when she was walk- 
ing about with the Raven on one shoulder, the Pigeon 
on the other, the Lark>‘ 
on her hand and the 
Lamb and the Dog by 
her side, which indeed 
made a droll figure,” 
and he cried out “ A 
witch, a witch ! ” 

She was arrested and 
brought to trial, but 
she pleaded her own cause. [Here the story book bears 
marks of diligent perusal, and is almost illegible with 



266 


CHILDREN S BOOKS IN OLD TIMES. 


wear. Many a young heart has trembled at the fate 
impending.] She was acquitted, the judge asking 
her accusers how they “ could be such fools as to 
think there was any such thing as a witch.” 

THE 

LILLIPUTIAN 

MASQUERADE. 

OCCASIONED 

By the conclusion of PEACE between those Potent Nations, 

THE 

LILLIPUTIANS 

AND 

TOM THUMBIANS. 

Behind our Mask you’ll something find 
To please, and to improve the Mind. 

GLASGOW. 

Printed and Sold by J. & M. Robinson 
And J. Duncan, Booksellers, 1783. 

(Price Two Pence.) 

This title would indicate an allusion to the recent 
peace between the United States and England, but 

its contents have no 
connection with the 
two nations, unless it 
be that the cause of 
the quarrel, a dispute 
whether “ when a cat 
wagged her tail it was 
a sign of fair or foul 
weather,” could b e 
meant to hint that 



children’s books in old times. 267 

England and her colonies quarrelled about nothing. 
At the Masquerade, Reason, Prodigality, Extravagance 
and Avarice appear, and the four Misses, Miscon- 
conduct. Misfortune, Mischance and* Mistake. A 
Beggar and a Chimney Sweeper also figure. The 
Chimney Sweeper runs about “like a Scaramouch, 
and daubs the clothes of every one that happens to 
be in his way. But what paper is that pinned to his 
back — let’s see — let’s see it ! 

‘ Though black without — I’m white within, 

My conscience is quite free from sin. 

Tho’ you my black appearance blame, 

I wish you all could say the same.* ” 

After a number of other characters, all very prosy, 
comes Death. A horrible picture here follows of the 
Skeleton Death. 

Another more solid book is a History of the Amer- 
ican Revolution, written in the style of ancient his- 
tory — published in Philadelphia in MDCCXCIII. 
The preface hopes “ it will please the rising genera- 
tion, being suitable to the capacities of the young 
people.” 

It thus describes the capture of Fort Ticonderoga 
by Col. Ethan Allen and Benedict Arnold, in 1775, 
the time, as my readers will remember, when the 
gallant Ethan summoned the astonished British gen- 


268 


children’s books in old times. 


eral to surrender in “ the name of the Great Jehovah 
and the Continental Congress.” 

“ I. Now there was a strong-hold, called in the 
French tongue Ticonderoga, and there was a garrison 
of soldiers in the hold who were the servants of the 
King of Britain ; and the people of the Provinces 
desired to have it for a possession. 2. And they sent 
Ethan and Benedict, two lion-like men, towards the 
hold and there followed after them two hundred and 
seventy men, whose dwellings were in the mountains, 
and they were aH valiant men. 3. And it was about 
the third watch of the night when Ethan and Bene- 
dict came against the hold. Now there was a river 
betwixt them and the strong-hold. 4. And about the 
cock-crowing, the two captains, Ethan and Benedict, 
took with them fourscore and three men and passed 
over the river ; and they got into the hold before the 
governor thereof had arisen from his couch, for his 
eyes were heavy with sleep. 5. And when the governor 
opened his eye, lo ! he saw Ethan and Benedict 
had gotten into the hold ; and he demanded of them, 
by what authority they did these things and who gave 
them that authority. 6. Then Ethan raised his voice 
aloud and said, ‘ Our authority is from the Great 
Jehovah and the princes of the Provinces, even the 
great Sanhedrim of the people, whose servants we 


children’s books in old times. 269 

are. 7. Then the governor’s heart melted within 
him, when he heard the voice of Ethan; and he de- 
livered up the strong-hold with the garrisons thereof 
to the two captains, Ethan and Benedict, and the 
garrisons were made captives.” 

Then there is a New History of England, about 
four inches long by two and a half wide, printed at 
Gainsborough, at Mogley’s Lilliputian Book Manufac- 
tory, 1791. Price sixpence. It is adorned with 
cuts of all the Kings and Queens who have reigned 
since the Norman Conquest. The likenesses, as may 
be imagined, are not striking. George the Third 
(this our revolutionary forefathers must have thought 
rather heretical reading for their children) is repre- 
sented as the pattern of all the virtues. He was 
then on the throne and the book gives an account 
of the great rejoicings in his realm over his getting 
well from a fit of sickness. The historian evidently 
did not sympathize with the spirit which prompted Pat- 
rick Henry to exclaim, “Caesar had his Brutus, 
Charles the First his Cromwell, and George the Third 
— may profit by their example.” He says, “In 
North America a rebellion broke out. . . . These pro- 
ceedings enraging the English government. ... In 
1775 the British and American troops came to blows 


children’s books in old times. 


270 

at Concord in New England.” But he ends: “In 
1783 a period was put to this most calamitous war, 
in which Great Britain lost the best part of her 



THIS FAMOUS OLD WOMAN HAD THREE BIRDS. 

American Colonies besides many thousand valuable 
lives, and expended or squandered nearly one hun- 
dred and fifty millions of money.” 


children’s books in old times. 271 

The book before mentioned as the one read by the 
little boy who died, is just seventy years old. It is the 

LIFE AND DEATH 

OF 

TOM THUMB, THE LITTLE GIANT. 

Published In New Haven, etc. 

How much do you think a child not four years old 
could understand of such reading as this ? 

“ Mr. Thomas Thumb was the son of Mr. Theophi- 
lus Thumb, of Thumall in Northumberland. He 
was born in the year in which Sir Walter Raleigh 
lost his life for serving his country, and in which peo- 
ple were so frighted that they have not dared to 
enter into that service since.” 

The little fellow was “wrapped up in a piece of cot- 
ton, put into a thimble instead of a cradle, and carried 
about in his mother’s warm pocket.” Tom was bred 
to be a warrior, but the author says one of his figure 
would have made a better physician as his diminutive 
size might permit him to slide down a patient’s throat 
and see what was the matter within, for want of which 
intelligence such great mistakes are often made that 
those who would get the better of a disease fre 
quently die of a doctor. 

d'om, however, was to be a warrior and therefore 


^72 children’s books in old times. 

his mother made him a sword of a small needle, a 
helmet of a hazel nut shell, and a coat of a mouse’s 
ear. He slew everything that dared to enter the 



{From Ancient Primer with^olored Plates .) 
THIS FAMOUS OLD WOMAN HAD THREE PIGS. 


pantry, and gained the name of “ General Tom 
Thumb.” Tom met with many adventures visiting 
the Eagle’s country, and Grumbo, the giant, and mar- 
rying Grumbo’s daughter. With his “ gigantic wife” he 


children’s books in old times. 


273 


tived happily several years, but was, one day whei 
sailing on the lake in his boat, upset by a puff of 
wind from his wife’s fan and drowned. 

Appended to this story, to fill out the pages (the 
inside of the cover is printed, and there are no waste- 
ful fly-leaves) is a “ Story of the Untidy Girls.” 

In another book, sixty-nine years old, “ The Young 
Child’s A. B. C.,” is written : “ In this book little 
Samuel first learned to read words of three and four 
letters.” 

There is a book entitled the “ Whim Wham, or 
Eveningj^Amusement for all Ages and Sizes.” This 
is sixty-seven years old. It has among others the 
following riddles : 

* I. Never still for a month but seen mostly at 
night. 

2. I hear much, devour much, and reach from pole 
to pole. 

3. I’ve a tail like a flame, 

Pray tell me my name. 

4. I’m sometimes of copper and sometimes of tin, 

Of iron I also am made ; 

One element always I carry within. 

Of another I’m never afraid. 

For so constant they teaze me, I seldom am known 

To be left by the one or the other alone. 


I. Moon. 2. Sea. 3, Comet. 4. Kettle. 


274 


children’s books in old times. 


There are also some transpositions. 


I. All great sin, 

II. ' Men bar me rest, 

III. Grin O ant, 

IV. Ten mad men, 


(Gallantries) 


(Embarrassment) 


(Ignorant) 


(Amendment.) 


A very much-read picture book, brightly colored, 
^ is of unknown age, its cover gone. It seems to be 
among the more ancient on judging from the color of 
its leaves. It relates the story of an Old Woman 
who seems to have bought her possessions by threes 
instead of in pairs. 

“ This famous Old Woman had three Birds, 

Richard and Robin and Poll. 

Richard and Robin picked Poll till he Died, 

So the Old Woman killed them and had them both fried, 
And there was an end of her three birds, 

Richard and Robin and Poll. 

“ This famous Old Woman had three Cups, 

Crockery, China and Delf. 

Now poor little Sally broke Crockery and Delf, 

And in making the tea she broke China herself ; 

So there was an end of her three cups, 

Crockery, China and Delf. 

“This famous Old Woman had three Pence, 

Silver and Copper and Brass. 

The Silver and Copper she gave at the door, 

And the Brass Penny slipt through a hole in the floor 


children’s books in old times. 


275 


So there was an end of her three Pence, 

Silver and Copper and Brass.’* 

This famous Old Woman had three Geese, also three 
Pigs Short-tailed, Long-tailed and Curled. She had 
three Brooms, Carpet and Kitchen and Birch ; and 
three Cats, Tabby and Sandy and Black ; and three 
Pies, Gooseberry Currant and Plumb ; but all — Geese, 
Pigs, Brooms, Cats and Pies came to grief ; and how 
many more followed or had preceded them in sor- 
row, under the Old Woman’s hands, the loss of the 
other pages of the tale forbids our knowledge. 

There is, among the many, one more book worthy 
of note, a really artistically illustrated story of 
“ Memoirs of the Little Man and Little Maid. So 
wonderfully contrived as to be either merry or sad.” 
It was published by Henry Whipple, Salem, Mass., 
1814 


HOW JARED SAW THE 
ELEPHANT. 


TUST fifty years ago this Fourth of July, there was 
^ considerable excitement, even more than was 
usual upon that day, in the little village of Pepper- 
ton. There were none of the flaming handbills with 
thrilling pictures upon them, that proclaim in these 
days the approach of a “ greatest show on earth ! ” 
but, nevertheless, a show, and quite a pretentious one 
for that period and that part of the country, was com- 
ing to Pepperton. 

Mr. Spurling, one of the church-going and well-to- 
do farmers of that sleepy little hamlet, came in to 
supper the night before the Fourth of July, and re- 
marked thus to his family ; 

“ Cap’n John Henry Sargent has just come from 
Winbury ” — a neighboring town of some size — “ and 
says there’s a show coming here for the evening of 


HOW JARED SAW THE ELEPHANT. 2yy 

the Fourth, so we’ll all go, and Jared and Celia may 
go too.” 

Jared and Celia were ten and eight years old, re- 
spectively, and were not usually allowed to go out in 
the evening. Therefore, at their father’s announce- 
ment, they uttered various incoherent cries of joy, and 
questioned wildly; 

“What is it, father.? What shall we see at the 
show .? ” 

“Guess ! ” said their father. 

“Oh, a lion !” said Jared, anxiously. 

“ A bear ! ” cried Celia. 

Their father shook his head. 

“Oh, I know,” cried Jared, after a moment’s 
thought, “ an elephant ! ” 

“ Right ! ” said Mr. Spurling ; “ and there’s going 
to be something else — I didn’t rightly understand 
what it was — but whatever it is called, it is some- 
thing that will make the hair stand out all over your 
head, and throws out sparks, and makes one’s flesh 
prickle — it’s something electrical.” 

Now Jared and Celia knew no more about electri- 
city than two little lambs, and their curiosity was so 


2/8 


HOW JARED SAW THE ELEPHANT. 


profoundly excited by their father’s words that they 
could scarcely eat their supper. 

“ But mind,” said their father before he dropped 
the subject, “ only good children will go to the 
show.” 

They all understood him well enough to know that 
he meant precisely what he said, and registered men- 
tal resolves to let nothing lure them from the path 
of virtue the next day. But alas ! human nature is 
sometimes very indifferent to resolves ! 

The Fourth of July was generally celebrated with 
considerable noise in Pepperton at that time, even 
though there were no torpedoes, nor fire-crackers, nor 
toy-pistols in those days. There were bells to ring, 
and whistles and trumpets to toot on, and sometimes 
the boys could get powder to blow up, though the 
latter was frowned upon by all judicious parents, and 
was explicitly forbidden in the Spurling family. Ja- 
red Spurling had, however, privately secured some 
powder by “ swapping ” a squirrel he had caught, 
with a boy whose father was quite a hunter, and whose 
powder-horn was too easily accessible, and this pow- 
der Jared had already fixed in a tin can, ready to make 


HOW JARED SAW THE ELEPHANT. 


279 


a tremendous explosion on the morning of the Fourth. 
But now that such a piece of mischief might cost him 
the privilege of seeing the show, he felt rather doubt- 
ful about carrying it out. 

“ I say, Celia,” he remarked, as they were going 
after the cows together shortly after the announce- 
ment of the coming show ; “ d’ye see this tin box ? ” 
and he took out of his pocket a tin canister, the top 
of which had been glued down, and through the bot- 
tom of which a hole had beeh bored, ready for laying 
the “train.” “Now, true’s you stand there, live or 
die, you won’t never tell if I’ll tell you some- 
thing ? ” 

“ Never ! ” rejoined Celia, turning rather pale, and 
opening her eyes very wide. 

“Well, sis, there’s a pile of powder in there, done 
up in a paper,” said Jared solemnly, “ and I was going 
to let it off to-morrow morning under father’s window.” 

“ Oh my ! ” exclaimed Celia in dismay ; “ you won’t 
go to the show.” 

“ I said I was going to do it,” said Jared, some- 
what nettled ; “ I do’ know as I will now, but I want 
to, most awfully.” 


280 . HOW JARED SAW THE ELEPHANT. 

“You’d better let it off right here, this minute,” 
suggested Celia. 

“ I haven’t got any coals,” said Jared. There were 
no lucifer matches in those days, and if the fire went 
out in any house, coals had to be brought from a 
neighbor’s, though it could be rekindled, with more 
or less difficulty, by striking sparks from a flint and 
matlock. The fires, however, were all built in open 
fireplaces, and it was very easy in these to cover up 
with ashes the coals that were left at night, so 
they would keep nicely until morning ; but coals can- 
not be carried in one’s pockets like matches, so 
it was no wonder that Jared looked a trifle dubious 
about “ letting off ” his powder. 

“ Well,” suggested Celia naughtily, “ keep it till 
the next day.” 

She wanted very much that Jared should have his 
fun, even if his father didn’t approve of it. 

“But then,” argued Jared, “it won’t be the 
Fourth of July.” 

“ Anyway,” said Celia with decision, “ I shouldn’t 
lose going to the show.” 

Jared walked along moodily, and just then, coming 


HOW JARED SAW THE ELEPHANT. 


281 


to the pasture-bars, where most of the cows were 
gathered, he counted them over languidly, and discov- 
ering, to his great disgust, that Old Brindle, a cow 
much addicted to wandering, was not there, he cut 
a long stick for Celia, and, leaving her to see the 
rest of the cows home, went to hunt for Old 
Brindle. 

At daybreak the next morning, Celia was awak- 
ened by a sound of muffled footsteps hurrying up the 
stairs and going in the direction of the room where 
Jared slept with his older brother Simeon. Then 
there was a frightful explosion. 

“ There ! he’s done it now ! ” thought the little girl 
pityingly ; and amid the startled exclamations and in- 
quiries of the whole suddenly awakened family, her 
father called from the foot of the stairs, “Jared! 
Jared 1 ” 

Jared was snoring resolutely; but when his father 
had come up-stairs and had interviewed him and 
Simeon, who was twenty, and quite above shielding 
Jared’s little trick, his perfidy was exposed, and all 
hope of his seeing the elephant, or, indeed, much of 
anything else that day, summarily crushed. His dis- 


282 


HOW JARED SAW THE ELEPHANT. 


comfiture was completed by the contemptuous tone of 
his brother Sim’s remark : 

“ Paid pretty dear for your whistle, didn’t you, 
Jay?” 

Sim was a quiet, steady-going fellow, and could no 
more understand the irresistible desire of Jared and 
of sorhe other boj^s to do such things than a grass- 
hopper can understand a yellow-jacket. 

After breakfast, Sim offered to take his three 
younger sisters, Mercy, Sophy and Celia, up on “Fort 
Hill,” to see the town guns fired off. Firing off the town 
guns was the usual Fourth-of-July morning dissipation 
in Pepperton. They were some of the cannon belong- 
ing to the State, that were left from the Revolution. 
A small house had been built to shelter them in Pep- 
perton, and on Fourth of July and Washington’s 
Birthday, and Anniversary of the Battle of Bunker 
Hill, these guns were pushed out of their little house 
by the men and fired off. As this exercise always 
took place on Fort Hill, a high, bare knoll, on which 
stood the gun-house, the young folks enjoyed congre- 
gating near by to see the fun ; or, as the reporters 
would express it nowadays, “ The beauty and fash- 


HOW JARED SAW THE ELEPHANT. 2^3 

ion of Pepperton assembled to witness and endorse 
these patriotic demonstrations.” 

It was quite a disappointment to Jared that he 
couldn’t go up too ; but he had been forbidden by his 
father to leave the house for all day, and, after all, he 
had been on the spot so many times when the guns 
were fired off that he knew pretty well how things 
looked up there, and he could hear the noise just as 
plainly as anybody ; but every time he thought of the 
show-tent which was going to be put up, he had 
learned, on Fyle’s Flat, a level meadow not far away, 
and of the crowd, and the music, and the strange 
machine, and the lordly elephant — all of which he 
was not to see — he groaned and twisted, and thought 
with anguish what a very foolish boy he had 
been ! 

In the afternoon, Celia and her sisters called for 
some of their mates, and with baskets packed with a 
substantial luncheon, sought a hill-top not far away, 
where they could enjoy the prospect. 

The girls came home from their ramble very weary, 
and somebody suggested that Celia had better go to 
bed; but the little girl repelled the idea in high dud- 


284 


HOW JARED SAW THE ELEPHANT. 


geon, and soon after supper they all set out for the 
show, excepting Mrs. Spurling, who insisted that she 
didn’t want to go, and Jared. 

It would be impossible to describe the wild palpi- 
tation of Celia’s little heart, and the thoughts that 
passed through her busy little mind, as she sat in the 
cramped, close tent, lighted dimly with whale-oil 
lamps, and witnessed the wonderful sights of that 
evening. How she gave cookies to the elephant, and 
gazed in admiring terror upon his gigantic form ! 
How she stood on a glass stool and was “ electrified ” 
\ till every hair upon her head stood out . “ like quills 
upon the fretful porcupine ! ” How she and a score 
of the neighbors and their children took hold of 
hands, and then found themselves unable to let go ! 
and how utterly and cruelly tired she was when all 
the motions were gone through with, and the show 
came to an end ! All were perfectly satisfied with it. 
To be sure, they had seen only an elephant and an 
electrical machine, but these were much rarer then 
than now; and as the admission fee was only ten 
cents, no doubt everybody felt as though he had 
received his money’s worth. 


HOW JARED SAW THE ELEPHANT. 


285 


In the mean time, Jared was engaged in matur- 
ing plans for seeing the elephant the next day, if he 
could not see it that night. He knew that it would 
have to pass by the house in the morning in order to 
get to North Pelham, the next large village along the 
valley. 

“ They can’t very well help my seeing it go by,” he 
said to himself, “ but I suppose they can help my 
going out doors and seeing it close up to — oh ! I’ve 
thought of something ! ” 

And here Jared delivered a series of Indian war- 
whoops which nearly scared his mother to death, and 
then he went off to bed, determined to put a plan 
which he had thought of into execution at daybreak 
the next morning. 

He woke up promptly, and dressing himself has- 
tily, he took a basket of potatoes in his hand and 
went down the road a little way. The Spurling house 
stood on a hill, and a little back from the main street, 
but the road that led up to it, simply came up on 
one side and went down on the other, so that Jared 
did not feel any strong compunctions as he scat- 
tered the potatoes liberally along the road and up 


286 


HOW JARED SAW THE ELEPHANT. 


the hill, even to his father’s door. “ If the elephant 
came up the hill it wouldn’t have to turn around to 
go back,” he thought with a chuckle; “and then 
beside,” argued this astute small boy, “he'll have 
some nice potatoes to eat, and I shall get a good 
view of him — so, where’s the harm ? ” 

Then he went into the house and awaited results. 

Just as Mr. Spurling was opening the big Bible to 
have prayers after breakfast, some one shouted, 
“ The elephant is coming ! ” They all dashed down 
the hill, even to Mr. Spurling himself, who, however, 
sternly forbade Jared’s following them. In their 
haste and trepidation, they did not, one of them, 
observe Jared’s potatoes. 

There was a small brook crossed by a plank bridge 
a little way down the road. The elephant cautiously 
placed his mighty foot on this bridge, and then 
stepped back. He tried it again, but still he seemed 
to distrust it ; and he finally insisted upon going down 
into the little brook and wading across it. Then he 
began to strike the potatoes, and eagerly fished them 
in with his trunk. Up the hill he went, in spite of 
the lashing and screeching of his attendants. Jared's 


JARED SAW THE ELEPHANT 



»^\\\* 


V\"\ 

S\\\NV' 













288 


HOW JARED SAW THE ELEPHANT. 


arguments were much more effective than blows or 
screams, and the men had to let him have his way. 
It was a complete success, for Jared had the satisfac- 
tion — scapegrace as he was — of feeding the ele- 
phant on the doorstep from his very own hands. 

“ You are a young rascal ! ” said Mr. Spurling, as 
he sat down again to continue the interrupted devo- 
tions ; but there was a twinkle in his eye as he said 
it, and Jared received no further scolding for his 
novel method of seeing the elephant. 


The sweetest lives are those to duty wed, 

Whose deeds, both great and small. 

Are close-knit strands of one unbroken thread, 
Where love ennobles all. 

'Fhe world may sound no trumpets, ring no bells, 
'rhe Book of Life the shining record tells. 


KITTY'S FIRST SCHOOL. 


M EHITIBEL, or, as she was familiarly called, ' 
Hitty Wilson, lived in the town of Boston. 

I say town, because, at the time of which 1 am about 
to write, Boston had not been incorporated as a city. 

Kitty’s father was accounted a man of importance, 
having held for some years the position of selectman, 
and having a voice in the affairs of the town. He 
was also a man of wealth, and could afford to pay the 
sum of “ a shilling a week and two foot of wood ” 
for the winter, that his large family of children might, 
one after the other, attend a first-class school. 

So one day when Hitty was about seven years 
old she was entered as a pupil in the school of Mad- 
am Gray. Madam Gray’s school was held in a large 
wooden house situated on what was then, as well as 
now, known as North Square. At that time this was 


290 


kitty’s first school. 


the “ court end ” of the town and one of the most 
thickly settled parts. At the back of the house was 
a garden ; and underneath the kitchen windows was 
a cellar-way or bulkhead. 

Both this yard and cellar-way bore an important 
part in the education of the pupils, as we shall see 
anon. 

On entering the front door, little Hitty saw on 
either side of the entry a door ; the one on the left 
leading into the kitchen, while that on the right 
opened into what was originally the living-room, but 
had been converted into a school-room. This room 
was large, and Hitty thought it pleasant, for the win- 
dows looked out upon the square, and on one side, 
too, was an open fireplace with brass andirons or 
dogs ; upon these slowly burned huge logs of wood. 
In the cold days of winter the heat from this fire- 
place scarcely sufficed to render the room comforta- 
ble in spite of the strips of listing torn from the 
edges of the homespun flannel and nailed to the 
casings of the doors and windows. 

In this room were four or five long unpainted pine 
benches, or forms, without any backs ; the height 


kitty’s first school. 


291 


varied according to the size of the scholars, the lowest 
bench being in front. There were no desks in the 
room. 

Madam Gray was tall and stately in form, and to 
Hitty’s childish eye appeared like an old lady, but 
this was no doubt due in part to her style of dress. 
A gown of black bombazine fitted closely to her form, 
a white muslin kerchief was pinned across her 
breast, while her head was covered with a cap of the 
same material held in place by a black ribbon pass- 
ing around the back of the head and pinned at the 
top, the ends left loose. I wish I could draw for you 
her picture as she sat by the fireplace in a quaint 
old wooden chair and her feet resting upon a four- 
legged wooden cricket. 

On the floor, by her side, were two wooden boxes, 
one containing the books of the boys and girls, and 
the other the lap-bags of the girls, both books and 
bags being placed there at the close of each day. 

These lap-bags were aprons made in the form of 
bags, and usually contained patchwork, a handker- 
chief to be hemmed, or a shirt to be made. 

A girl in early Boston times was considered a 



MADAM GRAY’S SCHOOL 





hitty’s first school. 


293 


mere dunce who was not skilful with her needle. 
Upon the side of the bag was stitched a piece of 
cloth some two inches wide by six inches in length ; 
this was divided by rows of stitching, and into each 
of these divisions a skein of thread was drawn and 
cut ; for this was before the days of spool-cotton. 

Hitty was furnished with a lap-bag, thread, needle, 
thimble, and several squares of bright calico for patch- 
work. She was also provided with a copy of The 
New Efigland Primer. This was a* book about 
half an inch thick, six or seven inches broad and 
nine or ten long, printed on paper not much lighter 
or finer than common brown wrapping-paper. The 
covers were of coarse blue paper. 

Hitty could soon say the alphabet, which was im- 
pressed upon her mind by the small pictures at the 
margin of the page, and such couplets as: 

“ In Adam’s fall 
We sinned all.” 
or, 

“ When the cat’s away 
The mice will play.” 


She was also much interested in the picture of John 


294 


kitty’s first school. 


Rogers and his wife and ten small children, taken at the 
time when he was bidding them farewell before being 
burned at the stake. Having mastered the Primer, 
she was advanced into The Scholar's Companion ; a 
book a trifle larger and a trifle nicer. It was a speller 
in which the words were arranged alphabetically ; 
and great was her delight when she turned the page 
from A to B. She hastened home, exclaiming, 
“ Mother, mother ! I have beat John Smith and got 
into Bedlam ! ” 

From this point of departure, as time passed, she 
studied successfully until she could read easily in the 
Beauties of the Bible and The Chart to English Litera- 
ture. But it was not in books alone that Hitty suc- 
ceeded : from the making of patchwork and the hem- 
ming of a handkerchief, she had passed to the 
making of a shirt, and for this latter had received 
a prize of a needle-case. This meant something, 
I assure you, in those days when every thread 
was counted in the taking up of a stitch. 

I daresay some of you would like to know if the 
good pupils received reward cards in those days, and 
also how the naughty ones were punished. As 


kitty’s first school. 


295 


to punishments, I know little, as Hitty was not often 
subjected to them. There was the standing upon a 
mark upon the floor ; and there was the being seated 
between two boys, or the boy between two girls. The 
rewards were many, but not by cards. If one of the 
small boys had been good he might fish for bits of pa- 
per on the floor with a bent pin and a thread line ; or 
the scholars all would be allowed to go out and slide 
down the cellar door-way. If very good, the girls 
might take their work into the kitchen ; and if very 
very good, might go out and sit in the sun ; also, in 
special instances. Madam Gray sometimes gave her 
pupils a piece of stick licorice ! 

Hitty remained at this school until she was twelve 
years old, when she was deemed fitted for school 
number two. 



WHAT GRANDMAMMA DID. 


I T was the day before my grandmamma’s wedding- 
day. 1 do not pretend to have any personal 
recollection of the occasion, but 1 have seen a picture 
of my grandmamma painted a short time before ; and, 
to do her justice, a prettier or more graceful maiden 
it has never been my pleasure to behold. She 
looked a little like the pictures we see of England’s 
queen in her girlhood; but — yes, 1 must say it — 
prettier, and far more elaborately dressed. 

We read a great deal about the simplicity of those 
early times, but the reports of the great court-balls at 
which the gentlemen wore wigs, curled and powdered, 
waistcoats with laced flaps, knee-breecHes with silver 
or paste buckles, ruffled shirts and colored silk 
stockings ; while the ladies wore stiff brocades and 
pointed waists, farthingales, slippers with heels three 


WHAT GRANDMAMMA DID. 39/ 

inches high and turned-up toes, and displayed quanti- 
ties of rich lace, convince at least me that the sim- 
plicity was chiefly mythical. 

My grandmamma never went to a court-ball, but 
she felt very grand nevertheless, with her wedding 
hnery spread out around her. The great hair-cov- 
ered trunk, as roomy as a modern Saratoga, and far 
more clumsy, stood in her room filled with rich 
clothing, while three large deal boxes in the hail were 
stored with household goods, all of home manufacture, 
and chiefly the work of grandmamma’s own hands; 
piles of blankets as soft and white as snow ; patch- 
work quilts which grandmamma’s patient fingers had 
begun to “piece” when she was five years old; yards 
of table damask, and dozens of snowy napkins orna- 
mented with bunches of gay flowers. 

On the bed lay grandmamma’s crowning work — a 
dress of white linen which she herself had spun, 
woven, bleached, embroidered all over with bunches 
of raised flowers, and then cut, fitted and made up in 
the most approved style. I have a piece of that 
dress now, and I think I would be a queer figure in 
it; bat grandmamma viewed it with great satisfaction. 


WHAT GRANDMAMMA DID. 


298 

and, when she was ninety-five years of age, spoke of 
it as a great achievement to have spun such fine linen. 

The wonder is how one pair of hands could find 
time to do so much ; but grandmamma did not have 
to practise upon the piano for three hours every day, 
she was innocent of differential calculus and conic 
sections; nor did she know that cosmos was evolved 
from matter. But in spite of all these disadvantages, 
my grandmamma was an accomplished young lady, 
though I am not sure that her grammar and spelling 
were always above criticism ; for besides all her spin- 
ning and weaving, she was an excellent horsewoman, 
and could paint a sky-blue dog on a yellow-satin foot- 
stool so naturally that you would hesitate about put- 
ting your foot on it. 

But it was not to discuss my grandmamma’s ac- 
complishments that I took up my pen this morning; 
it was to tell you what my grandmamma did the day 
before her wedding-day, and you will probably say that 
it was not worth going through all this description, 
for Grandmamma was packing her work-basket pre- 
paratory to putting it into her trunk, when she missed 
her embroidery scissors. After looking for them foj 


WHAT GRANDMAMMA DID. 


299 


some time, she remembered that Millicent Hunt, who 
was to be her bridesmaid, had taken them home to 
finish a band which she was embroidering for 
grandmamma, and had not returned them when she 
brought the band. 

“Very likely Millicent will forget them altogether,” 
said grandmamma to herself; “why shouldn’t I go 
over and get them?” 

You see, grandmamma thought a great deal of 
those little scissors, partly because they were of very 
dainty workmanship, and partly because Fred Blake 
— I mean grandpapa — had given them to her. 

But why should grandmamma not go for them? 
The way to Millicent’s house was just down the 
garden path, through a little gate which separated the 
two gardens, and then up the path to Mrs. Hunt’s 
back porch; for grandmamma never thought of such 
a thing as going to the front door. Why did she hes- 
itate ? Why did she steal softly down-stairs, take her 
cottage-bonnet down from its peg, hide it behind, 
step softly to the door of the sitting-room where her 
mamma sat at work, and then turn around and hang 
her bonnet up again, resolving that she wouldn’t go ? 


300 


WHAT GRANDMAMMA DID. 


Why, you must know that my clear little sixteen- 
year-old grandmamma had never in her life gone be- 
yond the boundary-fence of that little garden without 
her mother’s permission, and this was the problem 
which troubled her soul: should or should not she, 
a young lady on the eve of her wedding-day, go and 
ask her mother if she might go into the next neighbor’s 
house? If she did, she might be laughed at; but if 
she did not, great-grandmamma might be surprised 
and grieved ; and never having grieved that precious 
mother by undutiful conduct, she did not wish to be- 
gin now. Besides, habit was strong; and to pass 
through that gate without permission really seemed 
more of a venture that to pass from maidenhood into 
matrimony with the full consent and blessing of both 
her parents. 

But grandmamma wanted her scissors; I think she 
also wanted one more walk through those two gar- 
dens, and she knew that it would never do for her to 
go on her wedding-day ; that was not to be thought of. 

Grandmamma tripped down-stairs and took down 
her bonnet once more. She had resolved to go into 
the sitting-room and say carelessly, “Mother, I’m 


WHAT GRANDMAMMA DID. 


301 


going over to Millicent’s to get my scissors ” — that 
compromise between dignity and respect for parental 
authority which independent young ladies were just 
beginning to make. 

But the habits of a lifetime were too strong for 
grandmamma, and after all, the old form fell from her 
lips : 

Mother, may 1 go over to Millicent’s and get my 
scissors?” 

Without raising her eyes from her work, great- 
grandmamma nodded, and said, “yes,” in just the 
matter-of-course tone which she would have used to a 
child five years old ; and grandmamma, hiding her 
blushing face in the depths of her sun-bonnet, 
hurried away with such a mingled sense of relief and 
mortification that she never forgot it. I do not think 
great-grandmamma ever thought of it as anything but 
perfectly natural that her daughter should have asked 
her permission. I do not think she would have un- 
derstood the struggle had grandma told it to her, 
half as well as I did when she told it to me, seventy 
years afterwards. 

Grandmamma opened Millicent’s door for herself, 


302 


WHAT GRANDMAMMA DID. 


as was her custom, and, as there was no one in sight, 
walked unceremoniously through the kitchen, dining- 
room and hall, up-stairs. 

She found her intended bridesmaid the picture of 
distress, sitting on the floor beside a box containing 
her costume for the eventful night, which had just 
arrived from the nearest port in a canoe ; for this was 
in one of the British Provinces, away up the St. John 
river, before any of the steamboats or railways were 
built, when the rivers were used as highways. 

“O Mary Welles!” cried Millicent, as grand- 
mamma appeared, “ I can never stand up with you in 
this world I ” 

■‘Why! What’s the matter?” 

“ Matter enough ! Just look ! ” 

Millicent held up one silk-stockinged foot from the 
toe of which hung a dainty white satin slipper. The 
foot was small and shapely, but the slipper was 
smaller still : and though one girl tugged while the 
other squeezed, it wouldn't go on. 

“What else have you?” asked grandmamma, as 
they stopped in hopeless exhaustion. 

“Nothing but my patent-leather shoes, and they’re 



IT wouldn't (;o on 1 


WHAT GRANDMAMMA DID. 


304 

black. I can’t pos — si — bly sta — and up;” and 
poor Millicent burst into tears. 

•‘Yes, you can,” said grandmamma resolutely; 
“stop crying; you’ll spoil your eyes and complexion! 
Isn’t there some white satin left of that dress your 
mother wore at Government House ball ? ” 

Millicent reflected. 

“No; but there’s a white satin waistcoat of 
father’s that I can have; he only wore it twice; it’s 
too small for him now.” 

“ Let me see it.” 

Millicent brought the waistcoat, and then — will 
you believe it? — my grandmamma whisked her 
scissors out of Millicent’s work-basket, and auda- 
ciously proceeded to cut up those lovely satin slippers. 
First she ripped off the pretty rosettes with their 

I 

mother-of-pearl buckles, then down the back seam to 
the high heels, and lastly she cut off the satin all 
around, leaving only a narrow strip along the sole. 

“Mary Welles I ” cried Millicent in dismay, “what 
are you going to do?” 

By way of reply, grandmamma drew a slipper on a 
piece of white paper, using the satin one as a pattern, 


WHAT GRANDMAMMA DID. 


.305 

but making it half an inch larger all around. 

“ There ! ” said grandmamma, “ don’t you see ? We 
must use these soles, and have the uppers large 
enough to make up for the smallness. Put your fool 
on that sole, and let me see if it fits.” 

It did fit perfectly, as Millicent acknowledged 
with grateful tears in her eyes; and grandmamma cut 
out a pair of slippers from the discarded white waist- 
coat, and giving one to Millicent and taking the other 
herself, proceeded to bind it with white satin ribbon 
which opportunely turned up among the wedding 
finery. 

“O Mary!” said Millicent, “how clever you are I 
I really believe there is nothing that you cannot do I ” 

“Don’t you wish we had a machine that would 
make a pair of slippers in ten minutes ? ” said grand- 
mamma, ignoring the compliment. 

“Who knows but there may be one invented some 
day! ” said Millicent; and both girls laughed merrily 
at the absurdity of the idea. 

Well,, those girls worked like machines. I do not 
think you ever saw fingers fly as theirs did. I do not 
expect to be believed, but at the end of an hour. 


2o6 what grandmamma did. 

Millicent had a pair of slippers fit for the bride her- 
self. Indeed, grandmamma thought they were rather 
prettier than hers. 

Grandmamma’s wedding went off beautifully. 'Fhe 
bride “looked lovely,” everybody said, in her rich 
sky-blue silk, made with a pointed waist, with low 
neck and short sleeves, and trimmed with real old 
Valenciennes lace. Her neck was adorned with a rich 
brocade scarf of soft harmonious green and blue, 
which reached nearly to her feet, and encircled with 
a string of virgin pearls; and literally, “in pearls 
and roses gleaming,” my grandmamma presented her 
finger to be encircled by the wedding ring which she 
herself had seen cut from a guinea.- I will not 
attempt to describe the great wedding-supper, nor to 
tell how they danced until midnight the stately 
minuets and the graceful contra-dances, winding up 
with a cotillon, which, as it had only lately come 
into favor, and but few of the guests could dance it, 
was considered a very brilliant feature indeed. 1 
iriay as well tell you, though, that the shoe-buckles 
which great-grandpapa wore on the occasion were 
afterwards made into a pair of sugar-tongs, which, 


WHAT GRANDMAMMA DID. 


307 


being presented to the bride, are still preserved in 
the family as a precious heirloom. I told you that 
the story was hardly worth telling; but don’t you 
think that mine was a sweet, as well as a clever little 
grandmamma, and deserved to have her story told ? 


ADVICE TO YOUNG MEN. 

Young men, you are the architects of your own 
fortunes. Rely upon your own strength of body and 
soul. Take for your star self reliance, faith, hon- 
esty, and industry. Inscribe on your banner, “ Luck 
is a fool, pluck is a hero.” Don’t take too much 
advice — keep at your helm and steer your own ship, 
and remember that the great art of commanding is 
to take a fair share of the work. Think well of 
yourself. Strike out. Assume your own position. 
Put potatoes in your cart, over a rough road, and 
small ones go to the bottom. Rise above the envi- 
ous and jealous. Fire above the mark you intend 
to hit. Energy, invincible determination, with a 
right motive, are the levers that move the world. 
Don’t drink. Don’t chew. Don’t smoke. Don’t 
swear. Don’t deceive. Don’t read novels. Don’t 
marry until you can support a wife. . Be in earnest. 
Be self-reliant. Be generpus. Be civil. Read the 
papers. Advertise your business. Make money 
and do good with it. Love your fellow 

men. Love truth and virtue. Love your country 
and obey its laws. 


HOW THE LITTLE STEAD 
MANS HAD AGOOD TIME. 


R ena and Carrie Steadman lived in Cincinnati. 

but they were born in Massachusetts, and 
loved Thanksgiving Day as only little New England 
girls can ; and they thought of it all the year through 
with as much pleasure as they thought of Christmas. 
It was pleasant to think, not only of the day itself, 
but of the two or three days before it, for then Mrs. 
Steadman, who always heard their lessons herself, 
gave them a holiday, and went into the kitchen and 
helped to make the good things for the dinner. Rena 
and Carrie were allowed to help — to stone raisins 
and pare apples, and chop the mince ; and every 
one looked so happy and busy, and there was such a 
baking and boiling and steaming and stirring, and 
such a good smell in the kitchen of spices and pas- 


THE LITTLE STEADMANS’ GOOD TIME. 3^9 


try, that Thanksgiving Day seemed to extend from 
Tuesday morning till Thursday night. 

Then it was so nice, when the day really came, to 
have their dear papa sit down before the fire in his 
dressing-gown and slippers after breakfast, just as he 
did Sundays, instead of hurrying off to business ; and 
the story that he told them before church-time was 
always a part of Thanksgiving Day. Then the walk- 
ing to church was another treat, for then their papa 
would explain to them how Thanksgiving Day came 
to be, or tell them of some Thanksgiving Day in his 
own childhood ; and in church, although they were 
too little to understand very much of the sermon, 
they enjoyed the beautiful music, and loved to think 
that they had come to church to thank their Heavenly 
Father for all His care through the year. Then 
walking from church with their uncle and aunt and 
cousins (who always dined with them Thanksgiving 
Day, because they had the biggest parlors for the 
after-dinner frolic). And then the dinner — the two 
big turkeys, the chicken pie — the everything so nice. 
After that the games, one coming after another, till 
the winter daylight faded, and the gas was lighted, 


310 THE LITTLE STEADMANS’ GOOD TIME. 

and still game after game, papa and mamma, uncle 
and aunt playing with the children till nine o’clock ! 
That was very late for Rena and Carrie, for they 
always went to bed at seven o’clock on other nights ; 
and after all else, the happy, sleepy undressing, with 
mamma to kiss them and tuck them in, and Thanks- 
giving Day was over ! Do you wonder that they 
loved to think of it? 

But one autumn, when Rena was ten and Carrie 
eight years old, early in October their mamma became 
very ill, and for many days the doctors thought she 
could not live ; but after much suffering and pain she 
finally grew better, and by the first of November was 
able to be bolstered up in bed and see the little girls 
for a while each day ; and in two weeks more, she sat 
in a rocking-chair, and began to move slowly about 
her room. One evening, as the little girls sat in 
their father’s lap, one on each knee, he said, 

“ I am sorry, my little girls, that you will lose your 
Thanksgiving frolic and dinner this year. Of course 
you will have to, for the new cook that has come since 
mamma was sick, knows very little, and could not get 
dinner without mamma, and she will not be strong 


THE LITTLE STEADMANS’ GOOD TIME. 3 1 I 

enough to come down-stairs to eat, or see you play, 
even if the cook could get along without her ; but you 
will really have a better Thanksgiving than you have 
ever had, for you will know better than you ever did 
before, what a real Thanksgiving out of your hearts 
is, when you look at mamma almost well again.” 

Of course Rena and Carrie felt sorry to lose the 
fun that they always had ; but they really felt, as their 
papa said, so joyful and thankful for their mamma, 
that they didn’t mind. 

But the next day, as soon as their papa went to his 
business, their mamma sent for them. They went 
quickly, wondering what mamma could want so early, 
for it was generally ten o’clock before they were sent 
for. They found her already sitting up in her wrap- 
per, with paper and pencil, and her purse. She 
smiled as they came in, and said, 

“ Little girls, I have a plan : I want to surprise 
papa, and you must help me. We will have a real 
Thanksgiving dinner up here in my room, and quiet 
games after it, you /////<? shall get the dinner ! 
And it shall all be a secret and surprise to papa !” 

Oh, how happy Rena and Carrie were ! too happy 


312 THE LITTLE STEADMANS’ GOOD TIME. 

at first to wonder what their mamma could mean by 
their getting the dinner ; but in a minute their ques- 
tions came fast enough : 

“ Why, mamma, how can we get the dinner t ” 
“ Who will teach us to cook “ Where will we get 
the things t ” “ How can we have dinner up here t 

There isn’t any table.” 

One after the other the questions came without 
stopping, till their mamma laughed and said, 

“ There, there ! stop a minute and listen to me ; 
it can all be done if we don’t get into a hurry. 
Thanksgiving comes the twenty-ninth — this is the 
twenty-second ; that gives us six days besides Sun- 
day. Now I have written down everything that is 
first needed at the grocer’s and market : you can take 
the paper to Betsey and tell her to get the things as 
soon as she has finished her work ; and when they 
come you may let me know.” 

Away ran the little girls, still wondering what their 
mamma could mean by their getting the dinner, but 
knowing that they must not ask too many questions. 
Betsey was the chambermaid, a bright, willing girl, 
and she hurried through her work, and. soon came in 


THE LITTLE STEADMANS’ GOOD TIME. 


313 


from market and grocery with a piece of beef, a piece 
of suet, a little bucket of sweet cider, and a paper of 
raisins ; and after her came the market-man with a 
bushel of rosy apples. 

Up ran the little girls to their mamma, who said, 
“ Now tell Mary (the cook) to boil the meat slowly 
till it is tender, and then put it away to cool; and 
then come back to me and bring the raisins and a 
bowl, and the chopping-bowl and knife, and the knife 
that Mary peels apples with, and tell Betsey to come 
with you with a basket of apples.” 

It was a pretty long message, but they remembered 
it all, and were soon back in their mamma’s room 
with all the things. 

“Now, little girls,” said she, “sit down quietly, 
and I will tell you just what we will do. I am quite 
well, only not strong, and it won’t hurt me any to 
have you in the room several hours at a time if you 
will not talk too much. I can show you so that by 
doing a little each day, you can make all the mince, 
mix the pumpkin, and peel and cut the apples, for 
mince, apple, and pumpkin pies. Then you can 
make the stuffing, and stuff the turkey. We will get 


314 


THE LITTLE STEADMANS’ GOOD TIME. 


along this year without any pudding or chicken pie, 
and have just a turkey and vegetables and three 
kinds of pie. You are too little to make pie-crust ; 
but I will have Mary bring the things up here and I 
will show her how to make enough crust for two pies 
of each kind. Then when Thanksgiving Day comes, 
while papa is at church Mary and Betsey will bring 
the two kitchen tables up-stairs, and as they are just 
of a size, they can be put together and make one 
long one, and we will have dinner just ready to put 
on when papa comes in from church.” 

Rena and Carrie listened with their eyes bright 
with happiness, and as soon as their mamma finish- 
ed speaking, asked both together, “ When may we 
begin?” 

“ Right away,” said Mrs. Steadman. “ You, Rena, 
can peel those apples and cut them off the cores, 
and you, Carrie, can stone the raisins.” 

The little girls went right to work, and by dinner- 
time had the apples peeled and chopped, and the 
raisins stone‘d for the mince. 

That was Thursday. Friday they chopped the 
meat and the suet: that was slow work, for it had to 


THE LITTLE STEADMANS’ GOOD TIME. 315 

be, oh, SO fine; but they took turns at the chopping- 
bowl, and before dinner had it all done. 

Saturday they ground and measured the spices 
and mixed the mince, and put it away finished. Oh, 
how happy they felt ! 

But they were almost afraid to say a word before 
their papa, for they thought all the time so much 
about their wonderful secret that they were very 
much afraid that they would say it out without 
thinking. So every night, as soon as they heard 
the front door shut, Rena would say, “Remember ! ” 
and Carrie would say, “ Yes, and then 

they would run to meet him. 

One night Carrie came very near saying, “Thanks- 
giving will be so nice in mamma’s room ; ” but she 
had only said “ Tha ” — when Rena gave her such a 
punch, and off she cut it right there with only a weak 
little “ a-a ” to finish it off with ; and then they both 
began to laugh so that they had to stuff their hand- 
kerchiefs into their mouths and get around behind 
their papa’s chair to keep from being seen. Oh, it 
was a happy week ! 

Monday they could not work, for Mary was too 


3i6 IHE LITTLE STEADMANS’ GOOD TIME. 

busy with her washing to have them running through 
the kitctien. 

But early Tuesday morning they begun to peel the 
big yellow pumpkin that the market-man brought 
Saturday night ; Mary quartered it for them and took 
out the seeds, and then they took two quarters of it 
up-stairs, and one did one and one the other; and 
when it was all cut in pieces they took it down to 
Mary to stew. Then when it was tender they took it 
up-stairs again with the sieve and a big dish, and 
eggs and an egg-beater, and Carrie strained the 
pumpkin while Rena beat the eggs. Then their 
mamma told them just how much milk to put in, 
and how much sugar and spice ; and the pumpkin 
too was ready for pies. 

They set it away in a cool place over night, and 
Wednesday they peeled and cut the apples for apple 
pies, and sat by watching while mamma showed 
Mary how to make the crust. Mary, although she did 
not know much about cooking, was a good-tempered, 
kind girl, and was almost as happy in the children’s 
secret as they were themselves, so she did not mind 
having to carry her baking things up-stairs. It was late 


THE LITTLE STEADMANS' GOOD TIME. 


31 / 


Wednesday afternoon before the turkey was stuffed, 
but it was at last done, and mamma’s room nicely 
set to rights before papa came in. Rena and Carrie 
were so certain they should tell their secret if they were 
long with their papa, that they ran off to bed right 
after supper and were soon asleep. 

The next morning they were up bright and early, 
and the minute they were dressed, ran to the pantry 
to look at the row of pies — pies — and the big 
turkey they had stuffed, lying in the pan with his 
legs tied together ready to go into the oven. “ Oh, 
isn't it nice!” said Rena; “won’t papa be happy, 
though ! ” 

“ And won’t he, though ! ” said Carrie. 

Papa’s story was just as nice that morning as 
usual, but the little girls’ heads and hearts were so 
full that every little while they would forget the story 
and be wondering if the girls could get the tables 
up-stairs, and if everything would be ready in 
time. 

But the story came to an end, and so did the 
pleasant church service, and the walk home ; and 
then — Rena’s heart beat so fast that she could 



WHAT A SURPHISE IT ALT. WILL BE ! ” 


\ 


V 


THE LITTLE STEADMANS’ GOOD TIME. 


319 

hardly speak, and little Carrie kept squeezing her 
hand while their papa got out his latch-key. 

“ Mamma is so well,” said he, “ that I think we 
can have some little games in her room after din- 
ner. I wonder if poor Mary has tried anything 
extra in honor of the day. I did not dare send a 
turkey from market, for I knew she would make it 
into hash or something as bad. When I get off my 
coat we will go up and see how dear mamma is.” 

“Yes, sir,” said Rena, trying to speak naturally, 
and pulling Carrie with her up-stairs — just one peep 
into mamma’s room before papa came^upto see if 
everything was right. Yes, the table was all set, and 
mamma in a pretty new blue wrapper, and a lace 
breakfast cap with blue ribbons, looking so pretty. 
They had only time to see this and get the door 
shut again, when papa come up-stairs and went 
into the room with them. Oh, you should have seen 
his face ! such a surprised look ! And so pleased ! 
And then, when mamma told him who made the 
mince, and fixed the pumpkin and apples, and 
stuffed the turkey, how he kissed his little girls ! 
Then how fast they talked, and told him how many 


320 THE LITTLE STEADMANS’ OOOD TIME. 

times they had nearly let the secret out, and how 
once, when he came home a little earlier to dinner, 
they had to stuff the chopping-bowl into the closet 
with his boots, to get it out of sight ; and how once 
mamma herself came near letting him know, and 
ever so much more, till their mouths were so stuffed 
widi dinner that they had to stop talking. 

Then after dinner they played Proverbs, and 
“We’ve thought of a word that rhymes,” and other 
quiet plays. And the games were not so quiet after 
all, for they all laughed so, and mamma as much as 
any of them, and best of all it never made her a bit 
worse, but she was so well in a few days that she 
drove out; and the children after that would say, 
diat Thanksgiving always was nice but “mamma’s 
'Thanksgiving ” was nicest of all. 


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